Conversations
by Embolalia
Summary: Chapter 96: Ziva confronts Gibbs about setting people up to kill their siblings. Spoilers for Spider and the Fly 8x01. *A series of one-shot conversations between Ziva and Gibbs over the course of the show*
1. 3x04 Silver War

**Conversations**

I caught _Kill Ari_ on one of the syndicated mini-marathons recently, and it occurred to me that, for a year, Ziva knew about Gibbs' family and their deaths, and Gibbs knew she'd killed her brother Ari. And in addition to him accepting her unusually quickly, doesn't it make sense that sharing secret griefs would have drawn them close? I don't mean romantically, just personally. So, I present you with a series of conversations, over season three, about the secrets they're keeping for each other. This first one falls right at the end of Silver War. I paraphrased Ziva's dialogue from memory, so I know it's not exact. Reviews are always appreciated...  
__________________________________________________________________________________

At first Ziva wasn't sure what she was looking at. An image of Tony, another of McGee. Pencil smudging off on her fingers as she turned the page. And then one of Gibbs, signed with an artist's flair: C. Todd.

She studied the image more carefully. Gibbs was relaxed, smiling. His features seemed charming in a way she had never witnessed. She glanced over to his desk and saw the hardness in his eyes that had seemed to define him until this moment.

Ziva took a deep breath, surprised to find herself suddenly nervous, then stood and took the few steps to reach her boss. Their boss.

"I found this in the desk," she said, extending the drawing pad. "I think she would want you to have it."

Gibbs took the pad hesitantly, and as he flipped through the images, she caught a hint in his face of the smile Kate had once provoked.

Ziva took her seat again, but when she looked back to Gibbs, he was somber, the drawing pad no longer in his hands. As she watched, he pulled a flask from a drawer.

"Gibbs?"

He took a swig before turning to her. "David." He opened his mouth and tensed up as if to snap at her, then seemed to think better of it and extended the flask instead.

She slid her chair to the partition and reached for it, took a long swallow. "It bothers you to remember her?"

He glared. Not a talker, she noted. But then in their line of work such a tendency was deadly.  
"You feel responsible," she stated.

Gibbs' quick glance was confirmation.

"It is not your fault," she said simply, studying the metal rim of the divider between them.

"He took her out to get to me," Gibbs snapped defensively.

Ziva was silent a moment before forcing the words out. "It's my fault he wanted to."

She could feel Gibbs' gaze burning a hole through her forehead.

"What?"

She breathed deeply. "I had profiled you for him, as you know. I knew Jenny well, for a while, and so most of your past was—not completely unfamiliar. But I had never heard her mention your dead wife and daughter." She darted a look at him, was caught his intensity. "I knew it was something of note. And I told Ari."

His eyes were fierce. They had not spoken of his family since they'd talked in the lab upon her arrival. Ziva paused until she could find the will to speak. "He went after her because of my information. If any of us should feel responsible, it is me." After a moment of silence, she spoke again, now at a whisper, though the bullpen was empty. "For his death, as well as hers."

She could still sense him looking at her, but the hand that rested on her shoulder after a moment was unexpectedly gentle.

"Sorry to interrupt your moment," Abby said snarkily as she approached from the other end of the bullpen.

Gibbs pulled away from her, discretely.

Ziva could feel the loss of the warmth from his hand.

"Abby," he said softly, and she softened. "Look what Ziva found."

As they conversed, Abby kneeling beside Gibbs' desk to examine the drawings, Ziva gathered her things. She deserved everything Abby could throw at her, and she knew it. She turned and headed toward the elevator without a farewell, failing to catch Gibbs watching her as she left Kate's desk, her personal hair shirt, behind her.


	2. 3xx Their Memory NonCanon

**Conversations**

Scenes of Gibbs and Ziva across season 3, sharing their secrets. This one isn't tied to any particular episode. Abby remembers his birthday every year. What would Ziva remember?

My love to those of you who have (or will!) review. The first week of school just ended and not only are my darling little emotionally disturbed students unappreciative, one of them has given me a cold.

___________________________________________________________________________________

There were many smells in his life that Jethro had gotten used to: the bitter scent of the cleaner he used to mop the floors of his father's shop, the sweat that pervaded his bunk at boot camp, the cool antiseptic air of autopsy. Somehow he never stopped noticing the smell of sawdust, no matter how much he drowned himself in it. Every time, every single time he descended the stairs, he registered the smell, and thought of Kelly.

As he leaned against the frame of the boat, sawdust dominated his senses, and he let it. On any other day, he'd fight it back, but today was the one day of the year Jethro knew he owed it to them to let the grief wash over them, to let them mean enough to him to render him broken.

The day was almost over. He had told Jenny he wasn't coming in and let her and the rest of the team think what they would. In one hour, at midnight, he'd give in and reach for the bottle that could chase them away again. But in the meantime, he walked around the house. Here was the threshold he'd carried Shannon over, years after they were married but still a gesture that had made her laugh. Here was the spot where Kelly had thrown up on Christmas morning when she was five, after eating Santa's dessert and all the other Christmas cookies besides. Here was the boulder in the yard where she'd sat and watched him build her swing set, eyes alight. Not a single square inch lacked for memories.

Back in the basement, he stroked the boat, taking deep breaths and remembering sanding another with Kelly.

A step on the stair startled him and he turned, ready to face Jenny or Ducky. He pasted on the hint of a welcoming smile, ready to defend his health.

Instead it was Ziva, looking hesitantly down at him from the stairs.

Jethro straightened, finding it even easier to defend his absence to this woman who was not even a friend.

"I'm not sick, David," he said.

"I know," she answered softly.

It hit him like a punch to the gut. She _knew._ She knew everything he'd been through, and why he hadn't shown up today.

When he didn't answer, Ziva descended the stairs.

Her eyes looked past him, and as he turned and took in the bloodstain that remained on concrete, it registered in Jethro's mind what it had taken for her to come here.

"You don't owe any penance to me, Ziva," he said.

She looked back to him. "I came to offer my sympathy," she said simply, "since you'll have no one else's."

He nodded, touched. "Let's go upstairs," he said gruffly, and when she didn't answer, he took her by the arm and pushed her before him away from their memories.

In the kitchen, he poured two glasses of bourbon and passed one to Ziva. It was close enough to midnight, and this alone wouldn't get him drunk. She sat down after a moment at the cluttered kitchen table, so he joined her.

Ziva darted glances at him, but neither of them spoke. Finally, she asked, "Why haven't you told them? At least—some of them are your friends."

Jethro remembered how well she knew Jenny. "I didn't set out to do it," he admitted after a moment. "But when it happened, and the sergeant came and told me—he said, 'they're dead.' And I could never make those words come out of my own mouth. It hurt more to talk about than to not talk about it. So I didn't."

She nodded. He knew from the look on her face that she understood. But then Ziva shook her head. "Yet you stay here. How can you stand this place?"

Jethro shrugged. "I live here."

She took in the room, her eyes resting at last on the basement door. "When I sleep, I do too," she whispered.

He wondered if he imagined the trembling in her jaw. "You did the right thing."

Ziva crossed to the door, opened it and peered down into the blackness. "Yet when I dream, it is not the man I kill but a child who used to braid my hair and walk me to school."

Jethro answered from his seat. "I think maybe it's hardest to remember children," he said, his voice rough. "I met Shannon when she was seventeen. At least I got to see her grow up, but Kelly..." The words welled up in his throat, but he couldn't get them out. This was the most he'd spoken of them in fifteen years. "Kelly would be as old now as Shannon was when I married her."

Ziva turned back to him and nodded jerkily. "I am sorry for your loss," she said, her eyes damp, her voice full of true regret, and the tears he had loosed earlier, in the basement, were suddenly not enough; more were suddenly pouring down his cheeks, and words that had never meant anything meant something, coming from her. He leapt from him seat as loss overwhelmed him, fleeing to the living room, where the darkness hid his face.

Jethro gasped for air between sobs, and at some point found her standing beside him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her and muffle his cries into her shoulder.

When his emotions finally receded, Jethro found this new intimacy awkward, and pulled away from her arms. "I'm sorry, David," he said stiffly, "it's been a hard day." In the dimness, he found acceptance in her eyes.

"There is duty and honor in remembering our dead," she said quietly.

"And so much regret," he added, his voice husky from crying.

"Yes," Ziva whispered, and now he was the one reaching out to hold her. But Ziva pulled away.

"You can tell me," he said. "If you need to talk about him--"

She shook her head swiftly, and turned to go.

Jethro couldn't think of anything else to say until she had reached the door and turned the handle to open it.

"Thank you," he called after her, the first time the words had ever been spoken between them.

Ziva froze but did not turn.

"Saving me, you saved their memory," he said, resolute.

She looked back and nodded once, then disappeared out the door and into the night.


	3. 3x07 Honor Code

**Conversations**

This chapter follows right on the heels of _Honor Code_. If you haven't seen it lately, a little boy is left at an amusement park when his father is kidnapped for his secret military knowledge. The boy (who stays with Gibbs) insists his father is innocent, but for most of the episode Ziva believes his father is guilty.

I wouldn't have worked on this so quickly except your reviews were wonderful! I'd love more; also, I haven't seen season 3 recently, so if there are interesting Ziva/Gibbs moments before Hiatus, I'd appreciate suggestions of episodes to watch.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva watched the boy and his father leave the bullpen, the child's fingers wrapped in his father's hand, remembering how he'd held her hand like that earlier. He was still wearing an NIS sweatshirt, just his size.

She heard Gibbs' step beside her.

"That was Kelly's, no?" she asked softly, too quietly for the others to hear.

She could see his nod out of the corner of her eye.

"Walk with me," Gibbs said gruffly, and when he turned, she followed him, away from their desks and around the staircase.

When he stopped, Ziva shook her head. "Not here."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Fine. Come by later."

Now she gave a slight nod, and they retraced their steps to their desks.

***

She found herself at his house a few hours later, wary of the conversation but less wary of Gibbs. Ziva opened the unlocked door, and let herself in; she was relieved to find he'd made space for them to sit in the living room, instead of the basement.

Gibbs rose as she entered, extending a glass to her.

Ziva sipped. The taste was already becoming familiar.

"What was going on today?" Gibbs asked as she began to sit.

Instead she set her drink down and started pacing.

"You doubted me this whole day," he added.

"I was trying to trust the evidence!" Ziva snapped. "Isn't that what you want me to do?"

"It's not that you questioned me," he said, with calmness he'd learned from years of questioning agitated killers. "It's the doubt. You didn't want to consider my gut instincts."

"How can you trust your gut so much?" she demanded.

"Many years of trusting that I know people, and their behavior," he said simply. "Why didn't you?"

She stopped opposite him, her arms folded across her chest. "Your gut thought Ari was a killer."

"He was."

"I know." Now her posture crumpled, her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

Gibbs kept pushing, regretting a little the look on her face but too familiar with forcing his will until he got the answer.

"Haven't you had to rely on your instincts, to make snap decisions?"

"Of course," she answered readily. But the sigh that followed was despairing.

"But you don't trust yourself now." It wasn't a question.

"Not for a second." She answered as quickly as before but the tightness in her head as she shook it told Gibbs how hard the words were.

"He was your brother, Ziva," he said gently. "We are rarely rational when we're talking about--"

"He was my brother!" she retorted angrily. "I had known him my entire life, I should have noticed when things changed, I should have been able--"

"Stop it!"

Her jaw clenched with words unspoken, but she obeyed. He had forgotten how much military training she had.

"Ziva." He stood and walked around the coffee table to face her, leaving only a foot of space between them. "I wish you had noticed. I wish you had been able to stop him."

Her head turned as if she'd been slapped, her features closing off to him.

"Ziva." He demanded her attention with his tone, and she slowly met his eyes again. "Ziva, I don't blame you. I know you do, and I can't make you stop, but I don't. He made the choices he made, and you were blinded by love and attachment—none of us ever wants to believe the worst of those close to us."

She didn't answer, but she didn't look away.

"That little boy today refused to believe his father was wrong, and I trusted that. If I hadn't met Ari myself, I probably would have trusted your love for him, too."

Ziva's jaw was trembling and he knew he had gotten through to her, had pushed her as far toward acceptance as she could go on someone else's terms.

"I trusted my own love too much," she whispered.

Gibbs nodded. "There's a difference between relying on instinct and emotion, Ziva," he said, looking into her eyes to make sure she understood the nuances of language. "Your instincts are your brain processing things too fast to put them into words, and when you've seen as much of the world as we have, they're usually pretty good."

"And our emotions are the opposite," she concluded for them. Gibbs was glad to hear a wry note creep into her voice.

"Just trust me next time, okay?" he winged, stepping back from her and out of the moment.

Ziva nodded, the hint of a smile on her lips.

He waved her toward the door. "Go on, I know Tony and Tim were going drinking somewhere. We saved the day, time to celebrate."

"But--" she gestured to their untouched tumblers.

Gibbs shook his head. "Good night."

"Good night," Ziva repeated, then stepped toward him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking her leave.

Once the door was closed behind her, Gibbs dumped one of the tumblers into the other and carried it with him down to the basement. Working on his boat wasn't the same without a child's hands to guide, but it quieted his own emotions nevertheless.


	4. 3x08 3x12 Under Covers and Boxed In

**Conversations**

This is two pieces of the same conversation, following _Under Covers_ and _Boxed In_. Because it is striking how much Ziva has changed since she first joined NCIS, and I thought I'd explore it a bit.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Their FBI debriefers had finally left, but Ziva was still sitting at her desk, staring at her blank computer monitor.

The words of their captor rang in her ears even now, hours later. _We're assassins...you can't just walk away_.

"What's up?" Gibbs asked from his desk without turning to look at her.

Ziva looked around as if waking up. "What?"

"C'mon," he said, rising from his seat and picking up his coat. "Time to go home. I'll walk you out."

Silently Ziva gathered her things and followed him.

Gibbs opened his mouth to speak as they entered the elevator, but Abby was already inside, and squealed at Gibbs, then glared at Ziva. He raised his eyebrows at Ziva when she didn't respond, but said nothing.

Out in the parking garage, once Abby had left, he did speak. "What's up with you and Abbs?"

Ziva shrugged. "She does not like me."

"Look, I'll talk to her," Gibbs offered.

"Don't," she said quickly.

"What?" He was startled.

"I told you," she said, no longer walking toward her car but instead staring out into the night. "I am responsible for...for her friend's death. I can take whatever she wants to give me."

"Ziva, you have to let yourself be something other than guilty in your life."

She turned back to him. "Gibbs, for ten years I have secured, interrogated and killed people based on the belief that one act defines a life, that the days they spent working for Hitler years ago still darken their souls." She stopped speaking, but it was clear in her eyes that she judged herself the same way.

"You don't believe people can change?" Gibbs asked carefully, noting how frantic her expression suddenly was.

"Undercover today," she started, and stopped. "He told us, the Reniers, that assassins can never leave that world."

"You already have," Gibbs offered.

Ziva shook her head, and started to walk again but Gibbs grabbed her upper arm and turned her to face him.

She pursed her lips, resisting the demand, then gave in. "I feel like I am running from who I used to be, but I do not know if I can truly change."

Gibbs released her, his face thoughtful. "I was once a marine," he said, "and a sniper and a father. And I'm none of those things now. I can slip into them, when it's called for, but they're not me. You're already someone else, Ziva, don't worry. But to be that new person you have to stop thinking of this place as penance and start thinking of it as a life. As your team, your family. If you're going to be someone here you have to make a place for yourself here."

Her eyes were locked on him as he spoke, and when he finished, she nodded. "I'll try," she whispered.

"Good, then." Gibbs jerked his head toward her car. "Go home and get some rest. I hear Tony snores."

Her chuckle rang out through the garage. And she went home.

***

Ziva's eyes flickered around her dining room table: McGee, Palmer, Gibbs, Abby, Ducky. All laughing. Perhaps Gibbs was right, she thought, as she rose to gather their dessert plates.

The others rushed to clear before she could, and then it was only a little while before they found themselves making regretful goodbyes, wishing they could have stayed longer, regretting that they had work in the morning.

Gibbs remained behind after the others had left, and stayed seated while she finished clearing.

"Ziva," he said after a few minutes.

She stopped in the doorway from the dining room to the kitchen, a platter in her arms.

"Why wasn't Tony here tonight?"

She set it down again on the table. "He is not serious."

Gibbs cocked his head, inviting her to continue.

"All the rest of you, everyone here, you take your work seriously. I have not come from your world, but I can share that...that attitude. Tony is always playing. And I thought I would rather see you all away from that."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully for a moment. "You might be surprised what he's like under all the layers of defensiveness."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I saw him completely naked last week, and none of the bravado went away. And he was not even a professional about it."

Gibbs grinned. "Careful how you use the word professional about that, Ziva."

A smile danced across her face as she realized her mistake, but then she continued. "Gibbs, in Mossad we would have simply have had sex, knowing that we were adults and that it was a casual act that served a purpose. And Tony turned it into—it was about him and me, not the job."

"And that bothers you so much you couldn't invite him to dinner?"

"He is emotional about everything!" she snapped. "I cannot, will not change so much that I become like that."

Now Gibbs nodded, understanding the matter. His knowing look agitated her further.

"What?" Ziva demanded.

"I wasn't suggesting you be like Tony," Gibbs said wryly.

She watched him, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't think I could take two Tonys, for one thing." He was rewarded for his jab with another slight smile. "Ziva, we're a team. This isn't Mossad. We rely on each other, and we have to have different strengths and weaknesses—if you were the same as anyone here, I wouldn't want you."

She nodded again, trying to understand.

Now Gibbs smirked. "You'll be whoever you're becoming, Ziva, in enough time. And it won't be Tony."

Now she laughed, and Gibbs stood, gathering the last few platters himself and heading toward the kitchen.

As he left a few minutes later, he dropped a peck on Ziva's cheek.

"Thank you for coming," she said formally.

Gibbs smiled, nodded, and left.


	5. 3x16 Family Secret

**Conversations**

This falls in the middle of the episode _Family Secret_. Early in the episode, Gibbs gets annoyed that Jenny goes to the team for information before him, but by the end he lets her observe and even brings her dinner. I wonder why?

P.S. Your reviews are wonderful! And tigerlily, feel free to recommend it as much as you'd like!

__________________________________________________________________________________

Jethro stepped out of the head and took in the tableau before him. Jenny was pestering his team, but even as he stepped forward to herd her away, Ziva started to lay out the case, so he stilled for a moment, watching. McGee contributed his own theory, and eventually Tony couldn't stand it anymore, and gave in with an expression of angst that made Jethro grin. And then, watching Jenny's rapport with them, he saw her for a moment as her younger self, the girl who had been one of his just as they were now. But she'd walked away from that, so he strode forward, leading the team to her office and making his point.

She said she got it, that she wouldn't infringe on his territory. But that hadn't been it at all.

Jethro led his agents back down the stairs as they protested that they hadn't betrayed their loyalty to him. He ignored their squealing, doling out assignments.

"And I'm with you, yes?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know Ziva, are you?" he didn't bother to keep the ire from his voice.

"Definitely."

He grabbed his badge and gun while she gathered hers, then led the way to the elevator.

While they waited, Ziva spoke, too quietly for others to hear. "I did not _cave_, this should not be about choosing loyalty to either you or Jenny."

"I'm in charge of the team, not her," he said brusquely, unwilling to have this conversation in the bullpen.

"Just because you were once lovers--" Ziva started.

"She!" He pulled her into the elevator as it opened. "She told you that?"

Ziva's lips quirked. "At one time she was my partner, and not my boss's boss."

Jethro continued to eye her warily. "What else did she tell you?"

Ziva gave him a coy smile and opened her mouth as the doors slid open.

Jethro held up a hand. "No. Not here."

She laughed, but didn't speak until they were safely buckled into the car.

"Well?" he demanded.

Ziva shrugged. "We were trading war stories. Or undercover stories, I suppose. She had a few about you, enough that I casually asked and she casually answered that you had been romantically involved."

Jethro humphed. He doubted Ziva was revealing all the details Jenny had, but then again he didn't want to hear tales of their wilder exploits from Ziva anyway.

They drove in silence for a while. "Are you okay with following me and not Jenny?" he finally asked.

Ziva shrugged, watching his profile as he drove. "Of course. But as I said, it should not be a question of one or the other, should it? If you are both good leaders, and trust each other?"

Jethro glared at her. "It's more complicated and you know it."

She waited a beat before asking, "Are you okay with Jenny?"

He sighed. It was a question he'd been asking himself since Jenny's arrival. He hadn't talked about it even with Ducky, but Ziva knew more of the story than anyone. "She left me," he said abruptly. "She left me way back then, to do this. To become this person. And now half the time I can't tell if she wants me or doesn't want me or just likes the attention—and I'm not even sure if she's enough like who she was that I'd want her if she did!" He stopped, knowing he'd been rambling, getting more uncomfortable by the second while he waited for Ziva to answer.

When she did, her voice was soft. "You were the only man she ever spoke to me about," Ziva said. "But I think she learned from you not to let men get too close, not if you won't put them above your ambition."

He nodded his agreement.

"And now, where she is, doing what she is doing—would she have come down to see us if she were not lonely for that camaraderie we share?"

Jethro glanced toward her, aching suddenly for Jenny as Ziva saw her.

"She made her choice," he said roughly.

Ziva nodded. "And perhaps she needs her old partners more than ever, to make that choice livable."

Jethro looked away, focusing on the signs leading them into the base where they were picking up Corporal Merrill.

"Gibbs?" Ziva asked as he parked and opened his door, waiting for him to resolve the moment.

He glanced at her across the interior of the car. "Don't you ever tell DiNozzo what she told you."

Ziva chuckled and followed him across the parking lot.


	6. 3x22 Jeopardy

**Conversations**

This chapter follows _Jeopardy_, right at the end of season 3. A brief recap: Ziva seems to have killed a prisoner, and then his brother kidnaps Jenny, demanding the dead brother's return. Gibbs restricts Ziva to her desk all day, while McGee, Tony and Ducky try to find their own ways to cheer her up.

My apologies if this feels a little over-wrought; I had to tell a parent today that I think her nine-year-old is schizophrenic and I'm a little over-wrought myself.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva's fists slammed into the punching bag, a staccato rhythm in the silence of the nearly-empty gym. Left, right, left, left, left, right, a kick. She focused on her breathing, on her pulse, trying to clear her head.

She caught Gibbs' approach out of the corner of her eye but didn't stop until he spoke.

"Ziva," he said quietly.

She gave the bag three quick hits before stilling suddenly. "What?" she asked, resting her palms against it.

"You've been cleared."

Ziva nodded dismissively.

"Hey." He set his hand on her arm and she finally turned, eyebrows raised. "What's going on? You've been antsy all day?"

"What do ants have to do with it?" Ziva snapped.

Gibbs suppressed a grin. "You've been agitated."

"You would not allow me to leave my desk!"

Gibbs cocked his head. "You know why I couldn't. And eventually I did. So why are you still agitated?"

Instead of answering, Ziva turned back to the punching bag, hit it a few times, trying to get enough of the emotion out of her that she could describe what was left.

Gibbs watched in bemusement. He couldn't ever remember seeing her this close to distraught. Except for that night she'd come to his house, to the site of Ari's death. And then it fit into place. "You killed someone's brother today," he said gently.

This time her whole body slammed into the bag, and she rested there with her arms around it.

"I didn't mean to," she whispered, her face turned away from him.

"He had an aneurysm, Ziva," Gibbs said, no trace of his usual sarcasm in his voice.

"The whole day," she said softly into the bag, "it is true I was worried about Jenny and my job, but the worst—right before you shot him, I saw the look on Dempsey's face when he realized his brother was dead."

Gibbs rested his hand lightly on her back, unsure if she could accept his comfort. "Do you miss him?"

Ziva turned toward him slowly, two faint tear tracks down her cheeks. "If you had asked me the day before, I would have said he was the only person alive I loved."

Without hesitation, Gibbs put his arms around her now, grateful that at last, after nearly a year, she trusted him enough to cry on his shoulder. Her arms were around him so tightly he thought he might better have left her to the punching bag, but instead he hugged her back and let her cry. Her tears were silent, punctuated with rasping breaths and sniffles.

After what felt like a long time, Ziva relaxed, and Gibbs spoke. "I'm sorry you lost that," he said softly.

She nodded against his chest, then drew back a step, wiping her eyes hurriedly. "You should not apologize," Ziva said firmly. "You should not even comfort me, after what he did--"

"Hey!" Gibbs gripped her shoulders firmly until she stopped talking. "Ziva. You're my friend and you're in pain. And I hope it's been long enough that you're not just here to punish yourself. I know you rely on us, I saw today how terrified you were of losing our trust and how quickly the team rallied around you."

She nodded.

"You're one of us now, like it or not," he was gratified with a hint of a smile, "and it would bother me if you didn't think you could lean on us when you need to."

Tears flooded her eyes again as she stared up at him.

"Aw, hell, Ziva." He released her arms.

But this time she shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but sniffled again before getting the words out. "I would not rather go back, Gibbs," she whispered.

He nodded, hugging her again, gently this time. "Good," he said, pressing a kiss to Ziva's forehead.

Finally they separated, Ziva drying her face with the hem of her shirt.

"You did your job, today, Ziva." Gibbs said firmly.

She glanced up into his eyes. "I always do my job."

He nodded sadly, wondering how much more was still bottled up inside of her.

Ziva stepped back from him slowly, overwhelmed by her own display of emotion. "I had better go," she told him.

Gibbs nodded and watched her cross the gym.

As she pushed open the door to let herself into the women's locker room, Gibbs called after her, "Hey, how did he provoke you so badly?"

Ziva shook her head with a wince. "He was mocking Tony."

Gibbs' lips curved into a smile as the door swung shut behind her, his laugh ringing out in the empty room.


	7. 3x24 Hiatus part 2

**Conversations**

This piece fills in a gap that I've been thinking about since I started writing this piece: the time between Ziva "restoring" Gibbs in _Hiatus_ and their arrival at NCIS. I'm not rewriting the scene of his restoration itself, partly because I want this piece to all be between-the-scenes and partly because I've already done it—see my story _Scent Memory_ if you're interested. Yeah, Gibbs is a bit of a mess in this scene, but he was in the episode, too. Read on!

__________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva turned the key in the ignition, debating whether to drive slower or faster than normal. It had been easy enough to get Gibbs out of the hospital, easier than she had expected after hearing Jenny's ordeal.

"Was anyone else hurt?" Gibbs asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Ziva glanced at him. A passing streetlight illuminated his face, and the harshness of his new haircut made him seem a stranger. She answered softly. "No."

"Then what's wrong?"

And somehow that made her relax—he still knew her, could still read her better than almost anyone else. She sighed.

"Ziva?"

"When you were first in the hospital, your doctor recognized you."

"From when I was injured in Desert Storm," Gibbs supplied.

"Yes," Ziva continued, "and he told Jenny and Ducky the...circumstances of your injuries."

"The purple heart?" Gibbs sounded tense.

She pulled the car over suddenly on the side of the road and turned to look at him. "About Shannon. And Kelly. And everything that happened." It was dim but she could see his eyes go wide, his lips thin. His breath seemed suddenly to be coming too fast.

Ziva slid the car into park and snatched his hands in hers. "It will be alright. They are your friends and they are happy you are well--"

"I lied. For years, to both of them. And they knew me, Ziva—I met Ducky only a year after they—and Jenny, too, we were so close—they'll never forgive me--" His sentences fragmenting, Gibbs stopped. He clenched her hands in his.

"They thought they had lost you," Ziva said slowly, emphatically. "They will be glad they have not."

Gibbs shook his head. He didn't release her hands, but wouldn't meet her gaze, either.

Ziva pulled a hand free and laid it against his cheek, trying to find words for what she wanted to say. "You told me that by saving you, I saved their memory. Is it not better that others should remember them, too?" When he didn't answer, she continued. "You think if no one knows you are a father, you do not have wear your grief before the world. But it is a part of you whether they know or not. Now they will only know you better."

He met her eyes. "It's too much," he said finally, softly. "In one day I've lost my entire family over again, and all of them knowing..."

Ziva studied him, troubled by the weakness of his tone. "You have borne much more," she said firmly. "And now we must return so you can save dozens of lives. Beside that your grief is of no consequence."

Gibbs nodded, obeying her commanding tone.

Ziva restarted the car, heading to the Navy Yard, hoping that forcing him into this was the right call.

As they entered, Ziva following a step behind, she saw Gibbs' posture straighten, saw the man who had been near tears in the car restored to the leader they all followed. He slipped into it so easily that she wondered how often it had been a mask. And how long it could last.

An hour later, she knew.


	8. 4x01 Shalom

**Conversations**

On to season four! This one's for Shalom...

__________________________________________________________________________________

As Gibbs unlocked the door and stepped inside, the light filtering through drawn curtains illuminated the dust motes saturating the air and drew his eyes to the quarter circle of swept floor where the basement door had been recently opened and closed.

He had wondered somewhere over Texas how exactly he would find Ziva when he arrived, but she seemed to have made arrangements.

With a sigh Gibbs set down his bag and opened the door, descending. From the landing, he could see her curled in the stern of the boat, her head pillowed on a cushion from the couch upstairs.

"Ziva," he said softly, and held up his hands as her gun aimed at him while her brain made sense of his voice.

She lowered it quickly, relief clear in her features. "Gibbs. Welcome home."

He glared a bit, for good measure, and continued down the stairs. "This had better be dire."

Ziva pursed her lips. "Yes." She swung over the side of the boat and hesitated a moment before giving him a quick hug.

Gibbs returned it with genuine warmth. Home had hardly seemed to exist while he was gone, but suddenly it was Mexico that didn't feel real. "Well, I won't say make yourself at home," he joked as he released Ziva.

She smiled briefly. "According to the Embassy, you killed my brother. This is the last place they'd ever expect me to go."

Gibbs nodded, eyes drawn to the spot where Ari had died. "It doesn't bother you?" he asked roughly.

Ziva turned to follow his gaze. After a moment she spoke. "I sat here alone with him, all day. At first I couldn't stand to be with him, because I could not bring myself to imagine the man he actually was. But years ago, when I knew him best, he told me he would do anything to protect me. And so even while I feel guilt and shame between these walls, I feel safe."

Gibbs nodded. "Good." He glanced back up the stairs. "Is there any food here? The airplane stuff is like cardboard."

Ziva smiled, reassured by his gruff reply. "There's coffee," she said tantalizingly, and led the way upstairs.

In the kitchen, she took down a box of pasta and canned sauce and vegetables he'd left behind and was suddenly a whirlwind of activity.

Gibbs watched from the kitchen table for a few minutes, getting accustomed again to the tides of memory that assaulted him in this house.

"Your father couldn't help you get out of this?" he finally asked casually.

Ziva froze momentarily but didn't turn from the stove. "He does not trust me," she answered stiffly.

Gibbs pondered her back. He knew she didn't share much about her family, but months with Franks had left him more used to idle chatter than he'd been in years. "You never seem to talk about him," Gibbs said, probing.

Ziva whirled, defensive, then sighed. "I did not know him well when I was a child. My mother cared for us, even Ari who was not her child, and my father worked. He would take us to the forest once in a while, or show us his knives, but I think my mother disapproved. My whole childhood, I worked hard to please him. Only Ari ever tried to tell me his approval might not be worth having."

She turned back to the meal but a day of solitude had left her loquacious and she continued, her tone even. "When I was thirteen, after my bat mitzvah, he took charge of me. Began to train me to fight and to teach me about weapons. I do not know if other Mossad agents train their children the same way." Quickly Ziva drained the pasta and tossed it back into the pot. "As a director, I always wondered if he treated me differently because he was my father. At the time, I thought it would be unfair of him to do so. But I think I also wanted him to, to show that he knew I was his daughter." She set a plate down in front of him as she finished, and glanced up at him then with startled eyes, as if Ziva herself were surprised by the admission.

"How could a father not love his daughter?" Gibbs asked, trying to offer comfort.

Ziva smiled bitterly as she brought the pots to the table. "Not all men are like you, Gibbs." She served him some noodles. "He refused to take time to grieve when we lost Tali, his youngest child. Nor did he rest for his son." She looked into his eyes. "Killing my brother, I affirmed once and for all that I never mattered to him. He would not mourn if I was lost."

Gibbs ached with the measured tone of her voice. It was clear that these thoughts were ones she had had many times, in the isolation of her own mind. For all that he knew her better than the rest of the team, perhaps better than the rest of the world, he did not know if there was any comfort to be had. Certainly there was no reason to think Eli David was a more sympathetic character than Ziva had painted him as. He settled for reaching out to take Ziva's hand as she sat down across from him to eat.

"We would, Ziva," he said firmly. "All of us, we would."

She nodded, a smile gracing her mouth. "You came to save me," she said simply.

Gibbs squeezed her hand and released it. "This smells delicious," he said, inhaling a few bites of food and easing the tension from the conversation.

Ziva watched him eat a moment before tucking into her own meal.

Three years later, tied to a chair in a foreign country, she found solace in the memory of finding family in a room where she had once waited to kill the person who loved her most, and hope in the sincerity in Gibbs eyes as he rescued her.


	9. 4xx Brother and Sister NonCanon

**Conversations**

Okay, this is a chapter that exists outside the time line of the show, because at some point off-screen certain seriously important information became common knowledge, and I don't know about you but I was pissed they didn't go for a big reveal. This is probably an unlikely way the truth could have come out, but suspend your disbelief... This note will make more sense when you've finished reading, I promise.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs tapped the file folder against his side impatiently, waiting for the elevator, which seemed to be taking far longer than necessary. At last the doors slid open, revealing Ziva standing alone, her stance and expression fairly screaming her distress. She met his eyes desperately and he stepped quickly inside, urging her back in, hitting the emergency stop as soon as the doors closed.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs demanded.

Ziva swallowed hard. "The suspect--"

"Rosen."

"Yes. Abby was making a point about common genetic markers in people of Ashkenazi descent."

"Eastern European Jews got you upset?"

His lightness fell flat.

"She pulled up my DNA for an example, which was fine," Ziva said quickly. "And then..."

"Ziva?"

She looked panicked. "She pulled up a few others of similar descent," she whispered. "To compare their alleles."

Gibbs jerked back as he realized. "Ari."

She nodded, eyes wide.

"And she could tell he was your half-brother?"

Ziva shrugged, shook her head, pacing as much as she could in a four by six foot box. "She looked at the monitor and back to me, and then McGee caught on and did the same—I am sure Tony couldn't make any sense of it, but by now they must have told him."

Gibbs looked at her critically. "You ran out."

"What could I possibly have said!" she snapped.

Gibbs took a deep breath, watching her frantic motion. When he spoke, his voice was soft, calming. "Ziva," he said slowly, and waited for her to turn to him. "You told me not too long ago that my friends would understand my secrets."

Her voice was fierce. "Understand? Shannon was simply dead! Ari killed Kate, or have you forgotten?"

He jerked to attention, on the offensive now. "You've had a year to earn their trust, and they've given it to you. They love you. Do you really believe anyone on this team will think you've spent a year here because you think Ari was right? Or to finish what he started?"

Ziva shook her head slowly, and Gibbs could see there had been no logic involved in her reaction. She was still now and he reached out, rubbing his hands gently from her shoulders to her elbows and back.

"It's one thing to blindly hate someone," Gibbs said as her breathing slowed. "If we'd never met you, we might hate you for your connection to him. But you're one of us. We can love McGee and suspect his sister, or Tony but judge his father." She nodded along and he knew he had her. "Frankly I'm a little surprised you didn't think of that sooner. You usually have a good head in a crisis."

Ziva's lower lip trembled, surprising him. "I was suddenly so afraid," she whispered, staring at her shoes.

Gibbs lifted her chin with, forcing her to look at him.

"This is all I have of a home," she admitted quietly. "I don't know where I'd go if I had to leave."

Gibbs hugged her briefly against him. "You don't have to go anywhere," he said as she returned the hug. "C'mon, let's go explain."


	10. 4x12 Suspicion

**Conversations**

I'm skipping quickly through the latter seasons, since Gibbs and Ziva's secrets aren't so secret anymore, but if you think I'm missing any important episodes, let me know. This scene is set at the end of _Suspicious._

_P.S. _Every time I update twice in a short period, the tracking numbers show most people miss the first of the new chapters. I only put chapter 9 up last night, so if you didn't read one where the team finds out about Ari and Ziva's relationship, go back a chapter. ~E

_________________________________________________________________________________

"What did you mean?"

He looked up from his desk to see Ziva standing over him in the dim light of the bullpen.

"When?" Gibbs asked, even though he knew the answer.

She glared at him, knowing he knew. "You said illness was not the only explanation for Tony's behavior."

Gibbs glanced past her at Tony's empty desk. "Are you asking to get your ass kicked?" he asked her pointedly.

Ziva's hands clenched into fists and he knew better than to goad her further.

"Please, you have to tell me," she said, a note of pleading in her voice.

"Why are you so sure he's sick?" Gibbs asked.

She looked away, then back to him. "Because I am not."

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of her words.

"You told me to trust instinct over emotion. And yet my first reaction, given the clues, is to trust him. Even though all of my training and experience tells me otherwise."

"Clues like not answering his phone?"

"It is not just that!" She slammed her palms down on his desk. "Gibbs, please, let us not both be blinded by our friendship with Tony."

"Blinded from what?" his voice was harsh, it had been a long day, but as he saw her expression turned frightened, he realized what she meant. "Tony is not Ari, Ziva," Gibbs said firmly. "He would never--"

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "We can trust our emotions with him because it's him but I was wrong to trust my feelings for my brother?"

Suddenly Gibbs found himself gripping the arms of his chair, caught up in her worry.

"What if it were your partner?" she continued. "What if Jenny had suddenly started disappearing and visiting hospitals and keeping a secret cellphone and not telling you the truth?"

He remembered it vividly as she spoke, Jenny looking guilty and hanging up the phone just as he stepped into the kitchen, Jenny staying out all night twice in one week, seducing him when he demanded information. And that Sunday she'd been gone.

His face must have told her he'd finally accepted her concern because Ziva straightened with a sigh. "I do not want to believe the worst," she said gravely, "but if Mossad taught me to push, life too taught me it is better to ask the questions than to avoid the answers."

Gibbs nodded curtly.

"So what did you mean?"

He relaxed slightly as he remembered. "He's been doing errands for Jenny. A few times she's asked to borrow him, but she doesn't always ask. I haven't pressed him to tell me what they're up to, and she's made the point that it's safest if I don't know, but somehow I doubt he can work with us and with her and still have time to betray us."

"And have a girlfriend," Ziva added.

"And have a girlfriend."

She nodded slowly. "Alright."

They were silent, both still uncertain.

Finally Ziva moved, crossing to her desk to gather her things. She glanced back toward Gibbs to nod goodnight, and he reciprocated. As she walked toward the elevator, he called after her. "Ziva."

She turned.

"You were right. Don't stop asking."

She nodded sadly, and left.

Alone in the bullpen, Gibbs sat a while longer, pondering Jenny's possible uses for DiNozzo and the multitude of ways things could end badly.


	11. 4x18 Iceman

**Conversations**

This chapter follows _Iceman_. A recap in case you don't remember: a "dead" marine wakes up in autopsy, turns out to be Franks' son and dies--but his death is avenged and his wife and child rescued by Franks.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs stopped at the coffee shop before heading into NCIS, thinking fondly of the Nicaraguan blends he'd been able to get in Mexico and wishing Mike had thought to bring him some.

As he stepped inside and headed to the counter to order, he sensed someone to his right growing alert at his presence and whirled, relaxing quickly when he saw Ziva at the creamer station, adding some sort of spice to her tea. She nodded a greeting to him as he noticed her, and he turned his attention to the barista.

Fortunately 'coffee, black,' was a quick order to prepare, and as he headed for the doors, Ziva silently joined him. Both were glad of their hot drinks as the frosty air enveloped them.

"Were you able to catch up to Franks?" she asked, falsely casual, as they headed down the street toward the navy yard.

Gibbs hesitated a moment and knew from her glance that his pause had been his answer. "He's gone," he answered shortly.

"You let him go."

He didn't bother responding.

"Did you tell him where to find those men?" she asked, leaning to the side so she could see his face.

"No!" Gibbs defended himself.

Ziva shrugged. "It would not bother me."

He sighed, stopping so he look at her. "He's a good investigator. I didn't have to."

She accepted his explanation with a nod and they began to walk again.

"Are you alright?" Ziva asked stiffly a block later.

"What?" He was surprised.

She glanced at him pointedly. "I would expect this to bring back memories of losing your own child."

Gibbs sighed.

"Well?"

"Of more than that, Ziva," he confessed.

She waited for him to continue.

"The first time I met Mike—he was investigating Shannon and Kelly's deaths."

Startlement flashed across Ziva's face.

"He let me see the files," Gibbs went on. "He gave me what I needed to track down and kill the bastard who did it."

"He was not even your friend," Ziva added.

"No. He just believed in justice."

Her eyes narrowed in disagreement.

"What?"

Ziva shrugged. "There is a fine line between justice and vengeance."

Now Gibbs raised his eyebrows in question.

"If he had done it, it would have been justice. Doing it yourself..."

"I suppose." He could tell she was getting cold, and turned, walking even as he waited for her to reply.

"I understand the desire for vengeance," Ziva said quietly.

"Thinking of suicide?" he quipped. But his face grew serious when she paused.

"No. Perhaps in those first few days after I accompanied Ari's body back home—I had to tell everyone what had happened. Not the truth of course, but that he'd died." Her step slowed. "Except his old partner, who had once also been his lover." She looked Gibbs straight in the face. "I told her the truth, and perhaps I wanted her to kill me for it."

"She didn't."

"No." Ziva shook her head. "She believed me. She took their daughters and fled Mossad before my father could take over their lives as he had Ari's and mine."

"He had children?" Gibbs was shocked.

Ziva smiled sadly. "I have not seen them since that day. It is for the best—they have escaped Mossad."

"You really lost your whole family," he said solemnly.

Ziva looked away. "But no, by vengeance I meant--I was fortunate to be able to kill the men whose bomb took my sister's life."

Gibbs nodded. "You're right about the difference," he said quietly, holding the door for her as they entered the NCIS building. "But Mike didn't need my help to get his. And he was luckier than either of us."

Ziva glanced at him in surprise.

"He got to say good-bye," he said softly as they grew warm in the vestibule. "And he got to save his daughter-in-law and his grandchild."

She smiled at the news, and Gibbs found himself happy, too.

"They evaded me," he added as McGee and DiNozzo walked across the lobby toward them.

"Who?" Ziva asked lightly, returning his grin as they headed back to work.

__________________________________________________________________________________

(A/N Isn't it lovely what you can create when the writers completely fail to give characters an adequate backstory? There was a little shoutout in there to characters from a story I've thought out but not written. Not sure if I will...I find I'm not drawn into reading stories that stray too far from canon, so maybe it's not fair to write one.)


	12. 7xx Child NonCanon

**Conversations**

This one is entirely outside canon, and outside the time line I've been following, but it's not relevant to the other chapters at all, so let's ignore all that. It's the story I wanted to tell today. Sadness warning.

____________________________________________________________________________________

**December 19, 2009**

Gibbs found her sitting in his basement when he got back from a late drink with Ducky. She was on the floor, leaning against the drawers where he stored his tools. A yellow candle on the floor in front of her sputtered in the draft he'd created as he entered.

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked softly.

She didn't turn but he knew she'd heard him. He walked quietly down the steps, stopping a few feet from her and glancing at the candle.

"It's not May," Gibbs said. "I thought those candles were for anniversaries."

Ziva glanced up at him, her face composed but deeply sad. "Today is the day that I am older than he was when he died." She paused and turned back to the light. "It is not a thing one ever thinks to consider as a younger sister, the idea that you could one day be the older one."

Gibbs took a seat before her, watching the candle flicker. "Is it his birthday?"

Ziva shook her head without turning. "No. He was four years, two months and a day older than me. And that is how much time has passed since he died."

"You still keep track," he whispered.

"Of course," she answered equally softly. "Don't you?"

He nodded, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

Ziva sighed, a smile twisting itself into a grimace on her face. "My mother told me that when I was born, he expected me to be as big as him, so I could play with him. He didn't understand that babies grew just as slowly as children, that I was always going to be littler than him."

Gibbs didn't answer, trying to imagine what the man he had known only as a terrorist and murderer would have looked like as a child. It was hard to reconcile the two.

Ziva smiled briefly. "When Tali was born, he sat me down and explained that she would be a baby. I was only just three myself, I barely remember it."

"Letting you learn from his mistakes," Gibbs offered.

She looked at him sadly, the tears in her eyes a confirmation. "I wondered, sometimes, if by the time I reached this age, I too would have found reason to betray my country."

"You're no traitor," he said firmly.

She flinched, the scar through her eyebrow distorting the expression. She turned back to the candle as she spoke. "Yet I, too, am no longer loyal to Mossad."

Gibbs opened his mouth to say that she, at least, had never shot a member of team, but remembered the events of the spring and thought better of it. Finally he offered, "you're still loyal to his memory."

Ziva nodded. "As he would have been to mine." She held her hand two inches over the flame, seeing how long she could stand the heat. "Every year, we prayed together for Tali. He never forgot her."

Gibbs studied her profile as a tear slid down Ziva's cheek. He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she turned, and said gently, "Please. I would like to be alone."

He settled his hand on her back anyway and leaned forward to press a kiss to her temple before standing.

"Come up when you're ready," Gibbs told her as he ascended the stairs.

Ziva sat, stiff but unwilling to move, for the last three hours as the yahrzeit candle burned out and left her in darkness, the oldest and most weary of her father's children.

___________________________________________________________________________________

For Alice Rowan Swanson, who would have been 24 today.


	13. 4x23 Trojan Horse

**Conversations**

Back to our regularly scheduled programming... This chapter falls after _Trojan Horse, _and Jenny's impromptu visit to Moscow on the heels of her erratic behavior over La Grenouille.

__________________________________________________________________________________

"Well?" Gibbs signaled to the bartender as he took the stool beside Ziva.

"Flirt." Her voice was firm, though she didn't turn to him.

"What?" Gibbs turned to her, bewildered.

"Blend in," she whispered as she held her drink to her lips.

Gibbs looked around. There seemed to be mostly locals in the bar, some at the bar watching games on the televisions while others sat in booths around the outside wall. He wasn't sure what she'd seen, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. He leaned over, putting his arm around Ziva and settling his hand at her waist. She turned her face up to him with a smile and kissed his cheek.

"I'm glad you could make it," she said, a little louder than strictly necessary.

As soon as she spoke, Gibbs could see two men down the bar drop their interest and turn back to football. Ziva had been right.

Releasing her as he took his drink, he sipped, asking again, "Well?"

She kept a smile on her face, but Gibbs read in Ziva's eyes what he wanted to know.

"You were right. Jenny's deviation from her plans was perhaps a personal trip, but not a social one. A contact of mine in Moscow confirmed that her flight landed and she traveled to a hospital in Balashikha, outside the city, to meet a Colonel General Borav."

Gibbs drank thoughtfully. "Does the name mean anything to you?"

Now Ziva let her unease read on her face. "He is a dying man, now. But he used to be an arms smuggler."

Gibbs felt resignation wash over him. "She's not letting it go."

Ziva shook her head. "I have never known her to be like this before."

"No," Gibbs confirmed. "Though once," he grinned, "she pursued a suspect so carefully that we ended up stuck on a wharf with no way out except by stealing a boat and crossing the river in the dead of night."

Ziva chuckled. "In Cairo, too. I would use a hajib, sometimes, if I needed to be unnoticed. And she borrowed it, knowing nothing of how to move in it," she tilted her head back in laughter. "I am sure there is no one who didn't notice her in the few minutes before I retrieved her."

Gibbs shook his head at the image. "Well, she has been impulsive, but..."

"But not obsessive," Ziva finished.

Their eyes met, saddened by the distortion of their old friend.

"This is an old pain for her. I imagine she has been harboring it alone for many years," Ziva said slowly. "Do you know what happened?"

"Before my time," Gibbs said gruffly. "And yet it used to be, I could get her out of any bad mood."

"I'm sure," Ziva said with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes. "For the last two years, her being in Paris would have given her endless time to think up clever innuendo. And now it's simply another way to get close to the Frog."

"Missing her?" Ziva asked genuinely.

Gibbs gave her a long look, then shook his head. "I've got someone. But I still worry."

Ziva nodded agreement, downing her drink. "Partners always do."


	14. 5x02 Family

**Conversations**

A/N So, does anyone know the rule about how much time has to pass between updates for your new chapter to go to the top of the queue? Because yesterday I posted about 15 hours apart and my story never came to the top the second time :( Hopefully you haven't all just stopped reading. If you missed it, chapter 13 is Ziva and Gibbs in a bar.

This chapter follows _Family_, and features some vague references to Jenny and Tony.

__________________________________________________________________________________

"So what's so complicated?" Gibbs asked as they drove back to the office after the safe delivery of the con-artist's baby to its happy new parents. Tony and Tim had driven themselves and gone straight home, but he and Ziva were driving back to NCIS to get their cars.

"About having children?" Ziva asked guardedly.

"Yeah." He glanced at her sideways.

Ziva stared out the window. "There are many reasons it would be difficult for me to have a child."

He slowed to a stop at a light and shrugged, watching her. "I mean, I get that Mossad isn't the safest lifestyle, but you could give it up if you had a kid. Believe me, Ziva." The last part he said with such longing that she turned.

"Even if that lifestyle were all you had to raise them for?"

"You would never do that," Gibbs said firmly.

She sighed. "It is not just that."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Are you alright?"

She looked away. "There were complications during my last abortion."

"Last?" Gibbs' face contorted in surprise before he could control it.

Ziva shrugged. "Standard practice. The light is green."

He stepped on the gas, still glancing back and forth between Ziva and the road."Your own father ordered you to--"

She turned to glare at him. "Should I have chosen to bear the children of men I killed?"

He sighed. "They were all targets?"

In his peripheral vision, he saw her face fall and knew they weren't.

She saw the knowledge in his eyes and shook her head.

"Who, then?

Ziva smiled sadly. "The first time I was twenty-three. I was undercover in Panama and fell in love with a civilian. They pulled me the minute they found out I was in too deep, of course."

"But you would have had his child?"

She pressed her lips firmly together. "It is complicated," she finally repeated.

Gibbs nodded.

"But there certainly is no one I could have a child with now, anyway."

Gibbs grinned and raised his eyebrows pointedly as he slammed to another stop.

"What?" Ziva exclaimed, provoked as he'd intended.

"You were watching Tony with that baby, earlier," he said gently, teasingly.

Ziva scoffed and crossed her arms in her seat.

"Well, I'm not saying you should," Gibbs returned with his usual gruff sarcasm, and was pleased to see her smile just before she turned away. "Hey, you don't have to admit it, Ziva, but I remember those months with Jenny, attuned to every detail of each other. I could hardly stand it. I can't tell you what a relief it's been that you two have managed to control yourselves."

"It hasn't been such hard work," she retorted drolly, and Gibbs laughed.

"That's why there are rules," he answered. "So it _is _work. Because otherwise..."

"Otherwise?" She quirked an eyebrow. Now Ziva was the one teasing.

"You think I don't know?" he threw back, "I remember how good it felt when it finally happened, finally getting to--" his words cut off as his memory suggested a dozens endings to his sentence. Getting to kiss her, getting to pin her to a bed and touch her everywhere, getting to watch her face as it contorted in pleasure. He could feel his heartbeat speed up just at the memory, and as he looked back to Ziva he saw dismay in her eyes as she recognized something in his words.

"Nothing's ever--" she started.

He shook his head.

"Gibbs--"

"Forget it, Ziva, I know you follow orders."

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

They were nearing the navy yard and Gibbs took the last few corners even faster than usual. But as they pulled into the garage, he waited to unlock the doors until Ziva turned, impatience in her face.

"It is worth it," he said firmly. "Even when there's danger, or risk, there's nothing else in my life that has been as valuable as my years with Kelly."

Ziva searched his face for a moment, for what he wasn't sure, then nodded and got out of the car.


	15. 5x16 Recoil

**Conversations**

So, I'm leaving to go camping in seven minutes, and I was stuck last night because I was trying to write a funny chapter but I just don't do funny as easily as sad, and I thought I'd have to leave you all without an update all weekend. But then I was thinking I'd just skip Recoil, since they do get to have a moving conversation on screen--and then this popped into my head. So here you go, a short, hastily-written chapter to help you get started on the weekend.

PS It really does make me write faster when you review!

____________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva turned to watch Locke dial Devin's number, then turned and walked to the car where Gibbs was waiting.

"Alright?" he asked as she got in.

Ziva nodded.

Gibbs started driving.

"Tony invited me over for a drink," Ziva said hesitantly. Gibbs had told her he'd drive her to the bar, but she wasn't sure where they were going now.

He turned to glance at her. Though she'd recovered somewhat, Ziva still looked tired and pale.

"Don't do it, not tonight," Gibbs said abruptly.

"What?" She turned to him, surprised. "Why not?"

"Just don't," he repeated. He softened his tone. "If it's a drink you want, we'll go get one."

***

Ziva seemed relaxed, at least partly from the alcohol, by the time he dropped her back at her apartment, but she turned to Gibbs seriously before getting out of the car. "Why didn't you want me to go see Tony?" she asked.

"It's not about what I want," Gibbs said uncomfortably.

"Why did you say not to?" Ziva rephrased.

He looked her in the eyes. "You were both terrified today. I saw it. You were scared of yourself, and he was scared of losing you. I didn't want to see you do something stupid."

Ziva studied him.

Gibbs wished she weren't Mossad so he'd have a better idea what was going on in her head.

"So it is about what you want," she finally said wryly.

Gibbs felt his face crack in a smile. "'Night, David," he said with feigned exasperation.

She smiled in reply and got out.

He saw her check her gun at her hip as she stepped out into the street. She glanced back at the door to wave, but he didn't drive away until he saw the light come on in her apartment.

__________________________________________________________________________________

A/N Before you ask, that last exchange was ONLY humor, and not meant to have any romantic overtones. :)


	16. 5x19 Judgment Day 1

**Conversations**

Alas, I haven't made it to Aliyah before the new season, but at least we get to see the premiere tomorrow! This chapter falls during Judgement Day; there will be another up tomorrow or the next day that follows it, dealing with Ziva having to leave. I've skipped a few episodes I'm still meaning to write about, but for the most part these pieces don't have to be read sequentially, so you'll see them sooner or later. Review, please, it would be lovely to have 100!

________________________________________________________________________________

She found him sitting in his car, watching through the window as, down the street, Jenny's house slowly burned to the ground.

He didn't turn as she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

"Was it the Russians?" she asked softly, after several minutes of waiting him out.

"No," Gibbs replied, never turning toward her. "It was me."

Ziva's eyes flickered in surprise. "Hiding her death?"

"And the woman who killed her."

Ziva nodded slowly and turned to watch the flames. A squadron of firefighters were hard at work, but he must have used an accelerant because they hadn't made any success in the hour since she'd first seen reports on the television at NCIS.

Before she realized it, there were tears on Ziva's cheeks. Since they'd returned from Los Angeles, it had seemed as though Jenny was simply off traveling somewhere again, at a conference or surveying her empire. Although Ziva had known intellectually that she was gone, it hadn't quite reached her until this moment, watching all traces of Jenny erased by Gibbs' own hand.

His hand which now eased across to her, clutching hers fiercely. The change in his breath told her he was crying, too. She held his hand just as tightly.

After a few minutes, he wiped his eyes with the back of his spare hand and spoke, his voice husky. "I've known her ten years."

Ziva didn't dispute the present tense. She nodded shakily. "Five for me."

"She's maybe the only person who ever annoyed me into loving her."

Ziva sputtered a laugh through the tears in her throat. "I'm sure you returned the favor."

"Those weeks in Paris," his voice was shaky again, "when I thought she loved me—was the first time after Shannon died that I though I could be happy again."

She turned toward him, taking in the new tears on his face, lit by the streetlight and the fire. "I believe she did."

Gibbs shook his head but didn't say respond directly. "She was dying, Ziva. Duck says so. She had some sort of cancer or tumor. She was going to die."

She jerked back in surprise and horror, as if that death hadn't already been averted.

"She didn't trust me anymore," he said, his voice broken.

Now Ziva shook her head. "She wanted protect you."

Gibbs turned suddenly wrathful. "From this?"

She shrugged, helpless, an answer on her lips that might help but but also hurt him even worse. "When we were in Egypt, we were holed up in a stakeout for more than a week. We got to trading stories about livelier missions. She...she told me about a few of yours."

For the first time since she'd arrived, Gibbs pulled his eyes away from Jenny's house and turned her.

"She told me about Paris, about the romance of the city and the way you fought for so long. And about that little farmhouse you shared, and how she wished that you were the kind of people who could just live there and be happy." Ziva let the words spill out of her lips, hoping they could offer some solace. Gibbs had closed his eyes, but she knew he was listening. "We talked sometimes, too, about our fathers, about being the daughters of warriors. How much pride we had to live up to. It had never made either of us exactly happy. I believe that is most of the reason she pushed herself so far, and so far from you. She was his daughter."

Gibbs nodded slightly, accepting her words, then opened his eyes. "I just burned his house down."

Ziva shrugged. "His shadow drove her away from what she really wanted. I suppose he deserves it."

He dragged his hand across his face again, smearing salt across his cheeks. Down the road, the firefighters were starting to meet with some success, and there was more smoke than flame rising from the house.

"She's not in there," Ziva said softly. "Would you like me to drive you home?"

Gibbs gazed at it awhile longer, remembering the few weeks they'd had back in the US between missions, nine years ago. How he'd taken her home and made love to her in his own bed, passionately, lazily, lovingly. He had another ghost now. "I can't go back there yet," he said harshly.

Ziva nodded.

"I don't know if it was worth it," he added, softer, his voice rough from tears.

"Burning the house?" she asked, knowing he meant more.

"Loving her."

Ziva had no answer to offer him.

Together they watched the saga of the fire as it rose and fell, their faces glistening orange. Eventually they slept there in the car, still lost in grief, holding hands.


	17. 5x19 Judgment Day 2

**Conversations**

Ohmanohmanohman. What a premiere. I've never been as impressed with Cote de Pablo as I was tonight. I'm sure there will a chapter about it once I've had time to rewatch and percolate, but for now, a conversation following the end of Judgment Day and the dissolution of the team.

There is some TIVA in this. It possibly warrants a T rating. I want to say this about the end of JD: in real life, if two people knew each other well, had some level of feelings for each other and definite attraction and knew they'd never get another chance, not all but some of them would bite the bullet and confess their feelings. And I think it's one of the least unreasonable ways we've all imagined that these two might get together.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She had had to return her car to the dealership she was leasing it from, so Gibbs had followed Ziva from the office and driven her home. She hadn't been able to find words as they drove; they had awoken in this car twelve hours earlier, stiff and tear-streaked, the world in disarray. And now things were even worse.

"Will you be safe there?" Gibbs had finally asked, his voice rusty. "Will your father keep you safe?"

And Ziva had shrugged. "I do not know. But I am one of his agents, so there is no reason to think I will be in more danger than any other."

As they approached her apartment, Ziva had forced herself to speak so that he wouldn't try to come up. She stared out the window as she spoke. "I told Tony he could stop by later." She saw Gibbs' flinch out of the corner of her eye, and regretted that she had reminded him again of Jenny.

"Do you want a ride to the airport in the morning?" was all Gibbs had said, his voice uninflected.

She had turned then to look at him. "Alright."

Gibbs had said nothing more until she opened the door to get out, hefting a box with the contents of her desk against her hip. Even then, he couldn't summon emotion to his tone. "Do what you want, but know that leaving tomorrow doesn't mean there won't be consequences."

She had nodded hesitantly, still standing with the car door open.

Gibbs had looked up then, his eyes full of grief. "It's not just sex, Ziva, when it's your partner."

"In Mossad--" she'd started, but he cut her off.

"It's not. Here, the way we work, where your partner knows you thoroughly, knows how you think, how you react—we're warriors, Ziva. We're never off our guard. But with that one person, you have no defense. You already trust them with your vulnerability. With your complete self. Nothing else ever comes close." His tears had long since passed, but she had been able to hear them in his voice.

Now, as the sank into the car again and closed the door behind her, Ziva wanted to tell Gibbs that it wasn't quite what he had said, because she and Tony weren't quite him and Jenny. They had both known, last night, what their bodies wanted, but they could have resisted it, even though Gibbs' words had tempted Ziva.

What made them different resolved itself in a moment, when Tony had turned to her and said forlornly, "Ziva, you're my best friend."

It surprised her to find that she didn't want to repeat this to Gibbs because she knew that in some ways she was closer to him than to Tony—there were ways in which, even now, he knew her more intimately. But if Gibbs had said the same words to her, Ziva was certain that her stomach would not have churned with the same pain, that she would not have wanted to cry. Because the truth on Tony's face was that he had lost someone and felt deeply responsible and then, at the critical moment when he needed his best friend, she was being taken from him.

And so she'd kissed him.

And it had turned out Gibbs was exactly right--she had never let anyone get as close to her as Tony got just by kissing her.

Now she sat here, conscious of all the places her body was tender, her skin still smelling of Tony, and Gibbs knew with a glance what had happened.

"We couldn't stop it either," he said softly, and started the car.


	18. 7x01 Truth and Consequences

**Conversations**

Follows _Truth and Consequences_. Spoilers, obviously, for that episode.

**_____________________________________________________________________  
**

Their flight had gotten in in the late afternoon, and by the time they got to NCIS to reassure Abby that Ziva was alive, the work day was about to end. While everyone was eager to hear the story of imprisonment and escape, none of its characters were eager to talk, Ziva least of all.

Gibbs settled the matter of Ziva's destroyed apartment with a burst of instructions. "DiNozzo, McGee, go home. Clean up and rest. Be in by ten tomorrow. Ziva, there's a room for you at my house for now."

None of them protested; Ziva nodded once in acceptance of the plan.

Slowly they cleared out, biding brief farewells to Abby and Ducky.

Ziva didn't speak in the car on the way home, and when they went inside, she seemed uncertain. Gibbs went upstairs and ran her a bath, sure she'd want to get clean. Their plane had stopped in Germany briefly to refuel, but all she'd had time to do was wash her face.

"Ziva," he called while the tub filled. He went out to the hallway and found her still standing adrift in the foyer. "Come up here."

Her eyes met his, devoid of emotion, and she slowly walked up the stairs. He could tell from the slowness of her step that her body was aching from over-exertion after three months of confinement and a near-starvation diet. But she didn't ask for help, so he didn't offer it. Gibbs led her silently into the bathroom, and when she still seemed blank, he knelt to take off her boots.

"I think I have forgot how to speak," Ziva said huskily as he lifted her foot to remove the boot. She leaned back so she was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, giving him easier access.

"You didn't talk to Saleem?" Gibbs asked casually.

Ziva shook her head. She slowly eased her arms out of the long-sleeved shirt that had been her only blanket for three months and began to unbutton her pants.

Gibbs turned to leave her in privacy, but Ziva called out. "Don't go!"

He raised his eyebrows, stopping in his tracks.

Her breath had grown quicker, a sign her heart was racing. "I have been alone far too long."

So he leaned against the counter, watching Ziva as she pulled off her clothes, revealing fresh bruises on her limbs and torso, dried blood matted in the fine hair on her legs. There were healing lash marks on her back, cigarette burns on her shoulder blade, fine scars from surgical knives scattered across her skin.

For the first time, Gibbs had no idea how to comfort her. In the months since they had parted, she had had experiences so far beyond his own that he wasn't sure if he even knew her anymore. He had been questioned, in the past, by Macy and others, but never tortured.

Ziva reached for his hand as she tried to step into the tub on unsteady legs, and Gibbs caught it instinctively. She looked toward him in surprise and Gibbs realized she'd just been maintaining her balance.

"I'm here," he said pointlessly.

For the first time since Somalia, Gibbs saw emotion fill her eyes. She withdrew her foot from the water and turned to him, wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back hesitantly, aware of how much thinner she was, and how fragile.

When she pulled away again, Ziva whispered a quiet, "Thank you," as she eased into the tub.

Gibbs heard her gasp in pleasure as the water enveloped her, and a hint of a smile crossed his face. He sat on the edge of the tub, facing away from her, and finally had to speak. "Ziva, when I looked through the sight on that gun and saw you there across from Tony—We thought you were dead when _Damocles_ sank in May." He heard a sound but wasn't sure if it was a sigh or a sob.

"I swam. And on the beach, he captured me."

"Saleem?" he asked gently.

When she didn't answer, he turned. "Ziva?"

"Yes," she whispered. Part of her was still locked in the moment of looking at Saleem, laying dead. There was a list of things she had once promised herself she would die before permitting anyone to do to her, and he had been working through it steadily for three months.

She closed her eyes and slipped beneath the water, unwilling to see what had become of her body. It seemed impossible to reconcile her existence in that hopeless, dreary hell with the clean simplicity of Gibbs' bathroom. It seemed no less hard to make sense of than death, than taking a single breath at this moment and leaving difficulty behind.

Gibbs' hands pulled her out of the water by her shoulders. "Ziva!" Her eyes fluttered open; his searched them furiously. "I can't lose you, too."

Ziva nodded slowly. She had almost nothing left, but she owed something to this man. And so she wouldn't die, not yet.


	19. 6x02 Agent Afloat

**Conversations**

*Obviously, these are not in sequential order*

What's funny is that I've actually written a scene for about Gibbs and Ziva's flight to Cartagena before, but that one was very different (It's called _Regret _if you're interested). _I'm_ regretting a little that I went outside canon in chapter 17, with Ziva and Tony having sex. But it happened, so I'll move on. It was interesting thinking about Ziva's return in _Last Man Standing_ knowing what we know now about Michael and her father. Keep that in mind as you read...and let me know what you think!

_________________________________________________________________________________

In the week she had been back, Ziva had had little chance to talk to Gibbs. Abby had been delighted to claim Ziva as her house guest and the few days they hadn't worked around the clock, McGee and Palmer had been on hand to offer to help her find a place or buy the team a round.

What little chance she'd had, she hadn't taken. It was so startling to find herself back here that Ziva didn't want to admit to Gibbs how much had happened over the summer. How much she'd missed Tony, how rapidly and perhaps recklessly she'd gotten involved with Michael. How cold her father had seemed on the rare occasions he spoke to her, especially when he'd given her her last orders before leaving. She could have told Gibbs everything, Ziva knew, and in the end he would have forgiven her. But that was the very reason she'd avoided him, as she had upon her arrival so many years ago. She wasn't ready yet for forgiveness.

But here he was, sliding into the seat beside her as they set off on a seven hour flight. They'd been lucky enough to get seats on a passenger plane, so the engine noise was muted by bulkheads. Nothing to drown out conversation.

Ziva rested her hands on her thighs as the plane took off, not nervous exactly, but tense. Soon they were in the air, flying toward Tony.

"Well, Ziver?" Gibbs finally asked, his voice lilting with provocation.

She turned toward him, softening unexpectedly at the familiar tone. "How are you holding up?" she asked softly.

He recoiled slightly at the reminder of Jenny's loss. "Hanging in there," he answered shortly.

Ziva flinched at the hurt in his eyes. "It is strange to come back and see Vance so adjusted to the position."

"I guess so." They paused a moment, neither the type to make small talk. Then Gibbs went on, "He passed your father a lot of information in the last few months?"

Ziva shrugged. "I know he was involved in the Morocco mission—I don't know about others."

Gibbs pressed his eyes closed. "I don't know if I said it on the phone, Ziva, but I was relieved you were alright. That ZNN footage..."

She squeezed his forearm on their shared armrest lightly. "It was enough to hear you missed me."

"You really missed DiNozzo?" The teasing in his voice was all for show. Ziva knew it was a serious question.

She looked out the window while she answered. "So much I decided to sleep with my latest partner."

Gibbs didn't answer until she turned back to him expectantly. Then he shrugged. "I'm the last person to criticize you for using one warm body to try to replace another."

She nodded, processing his words. So many wives...

"That said," he caught her eye, "Tony's still here. And whatever happens, I expect professionalism from both of you."

Ziva shook her head sadly. "Nothing will happen."

Gibbs frowned, watching her face closely. "What?"

She sighed, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Even before you called, my father questioned my loyalty to him, and to you. He will be watching me closer than ever. And I cannot trust the man I am involved with, my partner in Morocco."

Gibbs studied her face until Ziva turned away, uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, and she turned back.

"For what?"

He shrugged. "That we can't always have who we want in our lives. That your father is a bastard. That we never get to stop fighting."

Ziva chuckled humorlessly. "It's not your fault," she said, "don't apologize," and she wondered how she'd ever thought this conversation would end with him doing the forgiving.


	20. 5x08 Designated Target

**Conversations**

*Obviously, these are not in sequential order*

This chapter follows _Designated Target_ in season 5. Quick recap: a taxi driver from Burundi and a Navy general are shot in a hit. It turns out the driver was the target, but for unknown reasons NCIS continues to investigate. The driver's wife comes to NCIS to help them investigate and talks to Ziva about soul mates...but in the end when they find and save him, it turns out the man has remarried and everybody looks sad.

M E Wofford gets credit for suggesting a conversation about this episodes—Thanks! If anyone else has suggestions, I'm getting low on potential chapters. Though I just got a Netflix account, so I'll be rewatching season 3 in the near future :).

__________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs headed out of the elevator and strode quickly back to his desk, but stopped short when he saw Ziva standing by the window gazing out, arms folded across her chest. It was getting toward dusk, but the lights were low enough in the bullpen that the windows didn't reflect it back.

"David?" he asked lightly.

She glanced at him. "Do you believe in soulmates?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Do I look more like a woman than when I saw you last?"

Ziva cocked her head in irritation and Gibbs dropped the humor.

"Is that what Zeyda was talking to you about?"

"Yes."

Gibbs rested a hand against the wall, studying Ziva's profile as she turned back to the cityscape. "I do," he said evenly.

She looked surprised. "Really?"

He tried to keep the sadness at bay. "The first time I met Shannon, she was seventeen and I had just enlisted. We were waiting for the same train out of the little town in Pennsylvania where we'd both grown up, though we never knew each other. She smiled at me, and started telling me about the rules she lived by, and I thought I could be happy in that moment with her for the rest of my life." He'd been lost in reflection, but when Gibbs focused his eyes back on Ziva's face, she looked indescribably sad.

"She was the only one for you?"

He shrugged. "Hell, Ziva, I've loved other women since." He gazed inwardly at Shannon's face with a sigh. "But none quite the same."

She gave a single nod.

"Worried about finding your soul mate?" Gibbs asked, jest slipping back into his tone.

Now Ziva shook her head. "There was a hit on her husband. Zeyda's. Her soul mate, or at least she thought so."

The idea unfolded silently between them.

Finally Gibbs articulated it. "How many people's soul mates have we killed between us." It felt like a punch to the gut to him, too.

"That was all I could think about after I spoke to her," Ziva said softly. "I just wanted, once, to be able to offer some sort of union, rather than death."

Gibbs settled his hand on Ziva's shoulder, the most physical comfort either of them was comfortable with in public. She leaned into it slightly, and they both found some ease in the contact. But there was no greater comfort to be had.

Ziva looked out the window again and Gibbs turned to look with her. Together they watched people go about their lives, people who had never been assassins or snipers, people who were fortunate enough to think about soul mates only when they found them.


	21. 6x04 Heartland

**Conversations**

Hey, folks! So, there's been a lot more traffic on this site since the new season started, it seems, so I've renamed the chapters to the titles of the episodes or events they correspond to, in order for you all to decide which you'd like to read or which you've missed. Enjoy!

This chapter follows Heartland and the team's visit to Gibbs' hometown.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs smirked as Ziva slid into the passenger seat of the convertible. She glared, still sulking. Apparently Abby didn't mind cheating during punch-buggy, but did mind being punched back by a Mossad agent with defensive instincts.

Gibbs shook his head wryly and started driving away from the rest station where he'd been told to pick her up by an hysterically laughing DiNozzo. He wasn't sure who'd decided it would be best for Ziva to ride back separately, but he'd wait to ask.

They drove in silence a while, and Gibbs' amusement faded quickly as the melancholy the visit to Stillwater had stirred in him recaptured his thoughts. He was almost startled to recall her presence when Ziva spoke.

"It's funny, I thought we were the same all this time, both fighters, both haunted by those we have killed or lost," she said thoughtfully.

He glanced at her, startled again that she was leaping into such intimate truths, then back to the road. "Aren't we?"

"No," she answered simply. "Your childhood was so different from mine."

"My father was not the charmer at home that he is around you and Abby and every other woman, Ziva," Gibbs answered harshly.

Ziva was surprised by the change in his tone. "You are angry at him?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"Because he is a flirt?"

"He brought a woman with him to Shannon's funeral," Gibbs said with the coldness of old anger. "He was the only person I had left and he didn't take his eyes off his date."

She laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment in sympathy. "That was wrong. But the way he looks at you, the fact that he is genuinely sorry, the very fact that we are in this car--"

"What?" Gibbs snapped.

"Means he is a good man who has made mistakes," Ziva said emphatically.

Gibbs sighed. He'd been home so rarely that his father still treated him the same way he had thirty years ago, and Gibbs had too quickly fallen into his teenage patterns. He had to force himself out of it now, to remember that he too was an adult, and one who had made his share of mistakes. He turned his attention back to Ziva. "Your father made mistakes."

She looked at him sadly. "Yes, but he was not a good man."

Gibbs nodded, accepting the distinction. They sat in silence except for the wind rushing past for another moment. "And how does our fathers being different make us less alike than you thought?"

Ziva paused, then directed her answer to the windshield. "I am not sure exactly. But I think it is why you were a good father and I can barely imagine being a mother."

Gibbs glanced at her profile, taking in the sadness in her face. "We all do our best," he said quietly.

"What?" Ziva asked, turning to him and raising her voice over the sound of traffic.

"We all do our best," he repeated, louder. "My father said...he said I was a happy child. And Kelly sure as hell was. But there's no way to really know..." He trailed off.

Ziva was watching him, now. "That cop in town said to you that his kid had had a kid, and that's how it goes."

Gibbs nodded, watching the road, remembering how his gut had constricted at the words. "That's why I haven't been back."

He pressed down on the gas pedal, relishing the feeling of the car responding. He could still feel her eyes on him.

"You have changed all of us," Ziva finally said firmly.

"What?" Gibbs demanded, confused.

Ziva pursed her lips. "Your life did not go 'how it goes,' but it was not wasted."

"I didn't say it was," he snapped. But as her words sank it, he knew he'd felt that way, looking at Eddie, a worthless man who got to watch his grandchildren grow up.

"You have touched many lives. Our lives," Ziva repeated.

Gibbs didn't answer her. Accepting what he'd become might mean leaving too much just to memory. But the silence as they drove home was companionable, almost familial.


	22. 6x25 Aliyah and T&C

**Conversations**

This chapter includes events from Aliyah through the flashbacks in Truth and Consequences. If you haven't seen those episodes...you should.

Warning: I actually made *myself* cry, just writing this. It's pretty sad.

_________________________________________________________________________________

The glass was cool in his hand but not cold. No ice would dull the taste of the bourbon or the burn as it slid down his throat. Gibbs knocked it back again and again.

He could still remember that last day Ziva was with them in DC, the look in her eyes when he'd told her he was sorry for her loss. She was fractured. Lost. By the time he saw her again, in the office, she'd pulled herself together, pushed him away when he tried to be supportive. And he remembered what it felt like when the rug was swept out from under your feet, lover gone, home gone, and how deep the anger and despair could run. He looked into Ziva's face at the moment that Vance told her to pack her bags, and again when he announced they were all going to Tel Aviv, and he saw fear and loss sweep her all over again, over Michael's absence or her father's wrath, he wasn't sure.

A drink passed his lips for every memory, until finally he set down the glass and drank from the bottle.

In Tel Aviv, he watched her attack Hadar, knowing how good a target felt when it seemed the whole world was against you. When he approached, Gibbs could see her shield go up again.

"I was betrayed," Ziva said roughly. "By Mossad, by my father, by Tony. Who's next? You?" She walked away from him, posture bristling, but he followed.

"You can always trust me, Ziva," he told her sternly, grabbing her upper arm and turning her to face him."

She exhaled with a sound between a laugh and a moan. "What has my life come to, Gibbs, that the only person I can rely on is an old marine from half a world away from my country?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Your life is what your father made of it, Ziver."

She nodded, swallowing hard, raising her hand and extending a folded paper.

He unfolded it, studied it. Three children stood in a street that could easily have been somewhere in Israel. Two girls and a boy. He looked back to Ziva. For once her face was not closed, not hiding its history of loss, but open. He could read in her eyes that Michael was only the latest in a long history of loved ones Ziva would not get to grow old with.

Gibbs slipped his hand from her arm to her shoulder, squeezing hard, unwilling to hug her here where anyone might see.

"What should I do?" Ziva whispered, despair in her voice.

Gibbs clenched his teeth against the words, but spoke them anyway. "I doubt you could go back easily to the position you've had at NCIS. They're worried about you, and your father's trust is exhausted."

She nodded, nearly defeated.

"Would they ever let you go?"

Ziva shook her head.

"The only thing that ever gave me an ounce of peace was shooting the bastard who killed Shannon," Gibbs said gruffly.

"I wouldn't kill Tony," Ziva said reflexively. "I might want to, but--"

"That's not who I meant," Gibbs answered quickly.

Ziva's eyes grew wide.

"You know who's responsible for this," Gibbs said. "All of this." Her expression grew even more shocked, so he continued quickly. "I don't mean kill him. But if you had information—either he'd let you go or we'd get you free." He paused, studying her. "And you deserve to be free."

"You think I should stay here," Ziva said haltingly.

"Yes," Gibbs began, and felt his stomach clench. He let himself say what he was thinking for once. "But I love you, and I don't want to see you leave."

Tears flooded Ziva's eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. One slid down her cheek and Gibbs lifted his hand to wipe it away but she pulled back.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright and glistening and heartbreaking. "You are the only one left I love."

He had wanted to hug her, had wanted to take her away and protect her. It had never occurred to Gibbs to think of her as a daughter until he met her father, but seeing the man, knowing him, it had never seemed more unfair that some men got to raise their children while he didn't.

The bottle was empty. Gibbs threw it across the basement, listened to the crash that echoed when it hit the far wall.

She was icy cold on the runway, so he played along. Left her there, left her with a man who bore no good will toward her. She'd pulled away from his kiss, but he pressed his lips to her cheek anyway. Just in case.

And later that night, just a few weeks ago, Ducky had been here in this room.

"Whatever Ziva did to prove herself, it was not nearly as momentous as you believed—or was it?" Ducky's tone had turned harsh, interrogating, and Gibbs knew Ducky was doubting the last five minutes of their conversation.

"She had to stay, Duck," he'd said. "She had her reasons. It's what she needed to do, but I can't tell you more than that." He gave his friend a hard look to reinforce the message.

"And so you've lost someone else, Jethro," Ducky answered, pity in his eyes.

Gibbs glared, lips pressed firmly together. He hadn't wanted to say that she'd be back, that as worried as he was, he had extraordinary confidence in Ziva. It had seemed like he'd be asking for it.

Hope had been lost the next morning. There wasn't even a moment when he believed Leon, about Eli sending Ziva after Ari. He knew what grief was, and he'd seen hers. But it terrified him that anyone could use the story of his child's death to further his own purposes. It terrified him for Ziva.

Tonight terror was lost, too. There was no clock in the basement so Gibbs could only measure in bottle how long had passed since his phone had rung and brought Vance's words. _Her ship sank. Officer David is dead. I don't know what else is going on with Eli, but I thought you should know._

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to the cool air of the basement, over and over as his voice grew ragged with tears unshed and then spilling down his cheeks. "Ziva, Ziver..." Gibbs had never much believed in spirits, but he knew she did, and it seemed that if she were lost or hurt and could go anywhere, she'd come here, to her brother, to him.

"I love you," he told her again. Present tense, too soon for anything else.

He spun the top off another bottle, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of sawdust. He wasn't sure who he'd build the new boat behind him for, now. He didn't care. Gibbs lifted the bottle, a self-conscious offering to his ghosts, and drank long and deep.


	23. 7x02 Reunion

**Conversations**

If you've been following this piece for a while, I'm sure you can imagine how FURIOUS I was after last night's portrayal of Gibbs as more distrusting of Ziva than anyone else. Don't get me wrong, I was grinning like an idiot at the end when everyone was smiling at each other, but I really didn't like that they decided Gibbs had just left her in Israel and really thought she'd planned to kill Ari to buy his trust. Anyway, this is a scene that's more AU than most of the others, a sort of replacement for the Gibbs/Ziva scenes of Reunion. If you think of it as following my Truth and Consequences chapter, it will all make sense.

______________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs smiled as he laid the first board across the sawhorses. There was a certain pleasure in starting a new project, envisioning what he would create, that was a million miles away from the death and destruction he dealt with on a daily basis.

He heard soft footsteps descend the stairs, but Ziva didn't speak, so he continued to work, waiting patiently. After her return she'd spent two days at Bethesda, where they yelled at him for not delivering her immediately upon her return. By the end of the two days, she was hydrated, her ribs reset, and fully dosed with antibiotics to counter infections in a few of her wounds. Since then she'd stayed here, in the room he hadn't told her was Kelly's.

Gibbs glanced toward her and found Ziva watching him absently. That morning she'd finally gone in to see Vance, but he hadn't heard the outcome from either of them.

"Ziver?" he finally tendered.

She sighed. "He said I am damaged goods."

Her voice was flat, but Gibbs could hear the injury in her voice. For a brief moment he entertained the thought of killing Leon Vance. "Yeah, damaged and good," he offered sarcastically, and was rewarded with a slight smile.

Then her face fell. "He told me I'd have to pass a psych eval."

Gibbs nodded slowly. He'd expected this. "And?"

Ziva rose, moving, as she always did when she was anxious. "I met with Dr. Bracco today."

"Man hands?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Have a lot to discuss?" His voice grew more serious.

Ziva stopped beside him, running her fingers up and down the planks. "What's past is past. I told McGee so earlier, but he didn't seem sure, and suddenly I am not. I have gotten through hard things before," she stopped, flustered.

"Did the meeting go alright?" Gibbs asked, worried for a moment that she wouldn't have passed the screening.

Ziva looked a little panicked and spoke quickly. "Dr. Bracco says I need to discuss what happened in order to heal, in order to be able to put this truly in the past. And parts of it I told her, enough that she seemed satisfied. But I need to be my best. And if that means talking about it..."

"Then what?"

She pursed her lips nervously. "Can I talk about it with you?"

Gibbs' stomach clenched at the memory of Ziva's body that first night back, the scars and bruises. No amount of strong-arming had gotten Ducky to let him read her medical file from Bethesda, but from the deep sadness in the ME's face, Gibbs knew she'd faced horrors.

Ziva read the resistance on his face and shook her head before Gibbs could answer. "Never mind, I will talk to the psychologist."

Gibbs laid his hand on hers, stopping its motion along the wood. "Of course, Ziver." It was the only thing to say.

She nodded once, then snatched her hand away. "I will go make us some tea."

As she walked upstairs, Gibbs squeezed his eyes closed, wanting badly to help her, and badly not to know. Then he put the wood away and followed her.

Ziva wasn't in his kitchen when he reached it, but there was a mug of coffee on the counter, and Gibbs took it with a smile. "Ziva?" he called.

"In here," she sang out from the living room.

He followed the sound, found her sitting with the lights off, an afghan wrapped around her and her own mug between her hands. Gibbs reached for the light switch.

"Don't, please," Ziva said sharply.

He stepped inside. "Ziva?"

She paused before speaking. "I am not sure I can say this out loud, let alone to your face." Her voice was shaking, and his fear redoubled. Gibbs pulled an armchair opposite hers, sat facing her, waiting for Ziva to speak.

When she did, her head was turned away from him, and Gibbs could faintly make out her profile. "There were a dozen of them who I saw regularly. Some served a purpose, bringing food or water, taking out the waste pail. Saleem would come to try to get information out of me. Most...they were the sort of men who take enjoyment from causing pain."

Gibbs' hands clenched on the arms of the chair.

"I told the doctor that," Ziva said, somewhat defensively. "You saw me, you know. It was not so much what they did as how long it went on for." Her voice grew quiet. "Those first two weeks, I fought everything. I...I think they liked that more. In three years here, I had forgotten what it meant to be held."

"I'm sorry," Gibbs said roughly, tears in his throat.

"For what?" Ziva was surprised.

"That we didn't get you out sooner."

She laughed, incredulous. "I am amazed to be out at all. It is just that I do not know quite who to be now. I do not know how to be a victim, but everything makes me remember, makes me jump." Ziva paused. "I am not myself."

"You will be," Gibbs promised firmly.

Ziva sighed but didn't continue. He could see her sipping at her tea in the low light.

"Tell me, then," he said sadly.

She shook her head once, moonlight from the window glistening on her hair. "You do not need anything else to feel guilty for."

Gibbs reached out for her hands, set her cup on the side table and squeezed her palms with his. "If this is what you need to be yourself, to be better, I'm ready to listen."

After a moment she squeezed his hands back, and began to speak quietly. Gibbs was glad it was dark as he listened to the details of how Saleem's men had tortured and raped her, of the moments Ziva had passed through as she slowly gave up on life. He was glad she couldn't see the tears as they dripped down his cheeks and fell silently on his knees. When she finally finished, crying herself, Gibbs tugged her toward him, and wrapped her in his arms on his lap as if she were a child, holding her as she released her own pain, burying her head against his chest. But when he stood, gently lifting her and carrying her to bed, both their cheeks were dry.


	24. 5x12 Stakeout

**Conversations**

Set during the days of inactivity leading up to _Stakeout_. So, this is a chapter I started a while ago but ended up putting on hold. Writing angst-ridden scenes comes more naturally to me than humor, so let me know if this chapter works for you. It's got a little of both. But I feel like Gibbs is a little too talkative here to be totally in character. Sigh. I'm just posting it at this point.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Ziva set down the ink-covered binoculars where Tony would find them and sat down in her chair with a humph. "I wish we didn't have to sit all day," she complained to Gibbs.

"Well, maybe today will be the day," he offered blithely.

"I have always hated stakeouts," she insisted, though she met no resistance. "Ever since I was a child."

Now Gibbs reacted, turning from the computer. "Who were you staking out when you were a child?"

Ziva grinned. "Mostly our neighbors. We could get into their backyards by climbing the fences, and we'd wait for them to go out so we could sneak in. Every time someone new moved into the neighborhood, we watched them for weeks, learning their patterns, when each family member came and went."

"Your father must have been proud," Gibbs said dryly.

Ziva shrugged ruefully. "I doubt he ever noticed. But it was excruciating. Ari was quite content to sit and watch, and Tali liked to make up stories about the people coming and going. I just wanted to run." She stood and began to pace. "I hate being cooped in here."

"Cooped _up_, Ziva."

"I hate it!" she answered, extending her arms to express the depth of her emotion. "How can you just sit there?"

Gibbs smirked. "I've had enough successful stakeouts to make them seem worthwhile."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I have not." She sat down heavily in her chair, glaring at the window she'd been stationed at for nearly eight hours already.

Gibbs looked her over. Frustration was doing her no good. The first day in here, she'd been hawk-eyed, but now they were both less attentive. "Once Jenny and I got stuck in an attic in this old house in Paris," he offered.

"Covered with vines?" Ziva sassed.

He glared and continued. "For more 24 straight hours, all we did was stare out the windows."

"I heard that's not all you did," Ziva rebutted, her voice sultry.

"That was the second day," Gibbs answered without missing a beat.

"So at least it was a success on one level?"

"All levels," he defended himself. "We still got our guys."

Ziva chuckled softly. "Well, she and I once staked out a house in Belarus for three days. There was no cover since it was in a rural region, so we ended up laying on our stomachs in a field, unable to move."

Gibbs flinched in sympathy. She was right, that didn't sound appealing. "And how'd you pass the time then?" he asked, knowing the answer.

Ziva smirked as expected. "Telling stories."

"Alright, Miss David," Gibbs sighed. "Tell me. Best assignment?"

She smiled, glancing across the monitoring equipment while she spoke. "When I was a girl, I wanted to be a dancer. I might have been, too, if not for Tali," she faltered. "But shortly after I got into Mossad, Ari worked it out so I could take an undercover position in the Moscow Ballet."

Gibbs whistled. "Stephanie dragged me to see them once."

Ziva nodded. "The dancing was amazing, though my mission wasn't so different from hers," she nodded out the window at the hooker in the alley. "At least the days broke it up a little," she added reflectively.

Gibbs snorted.

"Yours?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs' face turned contemplative. "Well, the year with Jen was fun." The computer beeped, telling him to check a readout, and they both turned to it momentarily. When they'd finished the protocols, Gibbs spoke again. "You never talk much about your sister."

"You don't talk about Kelly," Ziva returned defensively.

Gibbs shook his head. "I wasn't pushing you. Just asking."

Ziva sighed. "Tali was always the baby. I always had to take care of her, even when she was annoying and got in the way. But she was also incredibly sweet."

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"I was never angry as a child, not like my father and brother could be. Certainly I fought with Ari and Tali, but my temper always cooled quickly." She was looking out the window, and Gibbs studied her profile as she went on. "When she died, it felt like I couldn't stop being angry." She glanced toward him, and Gibbs confirmed with his eyes that he knew what she felt.

"Of all of us, she was the one who was going to grow up and live a normal life and have babies and be happy. She did not want to learn to throw a knife or shoot a gun. She would have done her years in the army and then left it forever." Ziva rubbed a hand reflexively over her eyes. "There are still moments when I wonder where she would have been at this second, and doing what."

Gibbs nodded along, taking in her words but also marveling that in just a few years he had become close enough to this woman to ask her about one of her most private memories and get an answer without any shields going up. And close enough, too, that it felt natural to say what he was about to say.

"I think about Shannon and Kelly that way too," he told her. "I tried to get married just to make it stop, the constantly thinking of them greeting me when I got home, thinking of Kelly bringing home homework and report cards and friends."

Ziva smiled at him wryly. "Marriage didn't erase that?" she asked ironically.

Gibbs smiled humorlessly, checking the traffic in the alley. "Laura, the first, might have. But she was too much like Shannon." He could almost sense Ziva raising her eyebrows, taking note of the wife he'd never mentioned. "I told her what happened to them, and she said exactly what Shannon would have said, and I fell right into it."

"Into what?"

He smiled at Ziva's wry tone, glad they could have this conversation lightly.

"Oh, you know. Trouble." He returned her smirk. "Be glad you couldn't adopt another sister, Ziva."

She smiled a moment, then her gaze narrowed. "You could have had another child, Gibbs," Ziva said gently.

He stiffened, unable to suppress the stress reaction. "I fought about that, with Laura and Diane."

She raised an eyebrow, inquisitive.

"I couldn't risk it," Gibbs said simply, looking straight into her face. "I couldn't lose a child twice."

Ziva's eyes fell, and he realized what she was thinking about. Losing two siblings, her father losing two children. She didn't say so though. "Better a wife?" she retorted.

He rolled his eyes. "It was a phase, Ducky tells me."

She tilted her head back with a laugh. "No more weddings? Should I tell Jenny you're a lost cause?"

"She's the lost cause," he threw back, grinning.

A knock sounded at the door and both their faces straightened, their laughter cutting off abruptly.

Ziva drew her weapon, checked the peephole quickly and opened the door to let Tony in.

"Anything exciting?" he asked, boredom already evident in his tone as Tony crossed the threshold.

Gibbs shook his head silently, let Ziva toss off a quick, "nothing to report."

With a sigh, Tony reached for the binoculars, and only a quick, smiling glance between Gibbs and Ziva hinted at their earlier mood.

"At least you talk," Tony said hours later, glaring at McGee. "Can you imagine being stuck here with the boss or Ziva?"


	25. 4x16 Dead Man Walking

**Conversations**

This chapter follows _Dead Man Walking._

It's been really exciting to see how many people are reading this piece! Thanks to those of you who have reviewed, and I'd love to hear from you if you haven't.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva walked wearily down the hall toward her apartment, the emotions of the past forty-eight hours weighing heavily on her. It didn't help that she'd hardly slept since being put on Roy's protection detail when the case began.

As she reached for her keys, something sent her senses instantly to high alert. She paused for a moment, glancing up and down the hall, her instincts processing faster than her brain. A faint sound from inside told her why her heart was pounding so fast. In seconds Ziva's weapon was in her hand, the doorknob in her other as she eased it slowly open—and relaxed at once when she saw Gibbs' shoes just inside the door, next to a pile of her own.

"Gibbs?" she called out with relief, stepping inside. He'd been to her apartment before, but generally for group dinners. This was unusual.

He stepped out of the kitchen, an open beer in his hand. "Ziva."

The concern in his voice weakened something inside of her and Ziva looked away. She focused on hanging up her coat, straightening her shoes beside his. When she looked up, Gibbs was standing beside her, his face considerate.

"How are you?"

Ziva yawned before she could answer. "Tired." She dodged around him and into the kitchen, taking out and opening a beer for herself.

Back in the living room, she found Gibbs leaning against the couch.

"I thought you might want to talk," he said slowly.

"I do not." She stopped in front of him.

"You had a connection to that man."

Ziva looked away but stood still. "Yes."

Gibbs let out an impatient sigh. "Trust me, I know what grief feels like, Ziva. I know how irrational it can be."

Now she glared at him. "I only knew him a day."

"So?" Gibbs was impertinent.

She shrugged, surprised at herself. "I will miss him." Her nostrils flared and she blinked quickly.

His tone turned gentle. "What's wrong with that?"

Ziva's was sharp. "Have I changed so much that someone can get close to me in a day?"

Gibbs rested a hand on her shoulder, then took Ziva's hand and pulled her down to sit beside him on the couch.

"He was a good man," Gibbs said firmly.

Ziva nodded silently.

"He's someone who would have suited you."

She looked at him helplessly. "I did not used to get close enough to anyone to find out."

Gibbs studied Ziva. Watching her everyday, he hadn't noticed the change, but she was right. The bravado she met most people with had faded the more time she spent with the team, until now she only bothered to put the defense up around suspects. "It's better to feel things," he ordered gruffly.

"Like you do?" she retorted.

Gibbs pursed his lips. She wasn't wrong. "Well, I've set my limit on emotional pain," he answered mildly, humor in his tone.

He was rewarded by a faint smile crossing Ziva's face. "Should I not have that excuse, too?"

"Well," Gibbs shrugged. "we're different people, Ziver. Guess you've got a few more losses in you before you withdraw from the world entirely."

Now he earned a laugh. "I suppose," she responded. But as Ziva's laughter faded, her face fell. "Either way, I miss him," she whispered.

Gibbs slid an arm around Ziva's shoulders, pulling her against him. "I know," he said softly, and let her lean against him, the sadness washing over her, for as long as she needed. Resting his cheek against her hair, he knew he hadn't been entirely honest. She was closer to him than anyone had been in a long time, and he hoped fervently that he wouldn't pay for that the way she was now.


	26. 5xx The Day the World Ended NonCanon

**Conversations**

This takes place exactly two years after chapter 2 (_Their Memory),_ which makes it sometime early in season 5. You should really read that chapter before this one, but there are no real ties to canon.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs opened his eyes and reached for the alarm before he remembered and let his arm fall limply on the bed. It was the day again. The day the world ended.

He had left a note with Cynthia the night before, not wanting to bring it up with Jenny. The team would be fine, Tony could lead them for a day without anything falling apart. Gibbs was grateful they were between cases.

And so he gave in to it, let himself unlock the place inside himself where he stored the memory of waking up with Shannon in this bed, their first morning in the house, grinning at one another like children, then tickling her and kissing her, losing himself in pleasure and finding Shannon right beside him. The memory was so intense he could almost smell her, could almost imagine for one split second that if he just reached out without opening his eyes, his fingertips would be stopped by smooth, warm skin or tangled red hair.

Gibbs took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes more tightly closed to fight off the return of reality, and the aroma of coffee washed over him. He blinked his eyes open, jarred out of his reflections, and sat up. Someone was in his house.

As he padded down the stairs, Gibbs caught sight of Ziva, sitting matter-of-factly on his couch, her legs tucked under her as she looked up at him, a book on her lap and a mug in her hands.

"Good morning," she said gently.

"You're late for work." He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. His tone was mild. He thought in passing of her first year with them, when she'd been the only one who knew his secret, the only one who knew he needed comfort. By last year, Jenny knew, and Ducky. Though Ziva had paid her sympathies, she knew he had others to rely on. But he was unsurprised to find her here now.

"Apparently we have the same cold," Ziva answered him lightly. "There's coffee in the kitchen."

Gibbs nodded, running his tongue over gritty teeth, and helped himself. Once he'd poured a cup, he returned to the living room, watching Ziva as she read. At the end of the page, she looked up.

"You'd better go get dressed."

His brow creased. "What for?"

Ziva smirked. "You'd better get dressed."

Gibbs glared, but Ziva was unfazed. Finally he turned and climbed the stairs again, reappearing minutes later in jeans and a sweatshirt. He noticed now that Ziva wasn't as put together as usual either. He wondered what she had planned, but didn't ask, even when she directed him out to the car and buckled herself into the driver's seat.

Forty minutes later, he laughed aloud as they pulled into the training range at Quantico.

"I thought this might be a healthier way for you to spend today," Ziva said teasingly.

"Healthy?" he was sardonic.

"For _you_," she emphasized.

And laying flat on his stomach in the tall grass soon thereafter, eyes and gun trained on the targets moving in the distance and aware of Ziva's presence beside him, Gibbs had to concede she was right.

Driving home in the darkness, hours later, Ziva spoke softly. "I did not mean to keep you from thinking of them, Gibbs. Or talking about them. I only thought to spare you the pain you enforce on yourself every year."

Gibbs sighed. It was true, he had thought of other things today, but he hadn't forgotten. He never forgot. "Do you ever wonder who you would have been under different circumstances?" he asked, looking out the window.

Ziva glanced at him. "I try not to."

Gibbs nodded. They were pulling into the driveway. "Come inside? We can order food?" They hadn't eaten and it was nearly nine.

Ziva smiled. "Sure."

In the house, Gibbs quickly ordered, then went down to the basement without a word. Ziva was considering following him when Gibbs reemerged, carrying a box, which he set down on the kitchen table. She met him there.

Gibbs drew out a small pink book. A journal. "This was Kelly's," he said softly. He opened it to the first page and held it up, reading aloud. "_Dear Diary. My name is Kelly Gibbs and I am eight years old. My daddy calls me Kels, so I guess that's my name, too._" Gibbs stopped reading. "The night she wrote this," he said heavily, "her mom and I snuck in her room and read her journal. I protested, but Shannon thought it was cute. She teased me because I was so touched by that line." The ache in his chest intensified.

Ziva nodded sadly. "She must have adored you."

"Kels," Gibbs said, rolling the name on his tongue. Calling her Kelly kept her at a remove, kept him from remembering just how close he was to his child, once. He looked up at Ziva's drawn face as she glanced over the contents of the box: a lunchbox, Shannon's favorite books, some photo albums. "What did your father call you?" he asked.

Ziva looked surprised. "Only Ziva, that I remember. My mother called me Tzivilya—it is a nickname for Ziva in Yiddish."

"Zivilya," Gibbs repeated.

Ziva laughed, then caught herself, but her eyes were still dancing. "Not exactly."

"Everyone should be named from the phonetic alphabet," Gibbs grouched. "Easy to pronounce. All those hard consonants."

"Golf?" she suggested wryly.

"Zulu? Zero?" Gibbs retorted, sliding the journal back into the box as emotion retreated behind humor. "Ziver," he said, rolling it around in his mouth.

Ziva looked at him skeptically, but he could see pleasure behind her wariness. "I am not sure that is a name."

"This is America. _Ziva_ isn't a name." Gibbs smirked as he crossed to the door as the delivery man came up the walk. He paid and turned to find Ziva had set out plates and silverware and was looking through the box again.

Gibbs sat down heavily beside her and his memories, and found himself calm enough to begin to tell their stories. And so he did.


	27. 3x17 Ravenous

**Conversations**

Oh man! Who's excited about the preview for next week's episode? I am! I was just about to get irritated at the last ten seconds of tonight, but then that preview! Eep! Okay, okay. A story.

This falls during Ravenous (3x17). It plays on USA all the time, but in case you've forgotten, a bear seems to have eaten a hiker, his girlfriend is missing, and it's Abby's birthday. Just before this chapter, Ziva interrogates a redneck and tells him she knows he isn't the murderer because he was at his daughter's recital—she also confesses that her father never came to see her on stage.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Ziva stepped out of the interrogation room, shaking her head at herself. Two hours ago, she really might have hurt Jason Edom, but just as Gibbs predicted, she'd ended up his advocate. What was more, she'd changed him. The look in his eyes when he learned his daughter had a Hebrew name—she fingered her necklace again. If she had hit him, he would have hated her more. It was a surprise to realize the chances she might have missed over the years. And she had changed, too. He had driven all the way to South Carolina to see his daughter dance, and knowing that was what it took for her to see him as a person.

"I watched your interrogation," Gibbs commented from the door to observation.

She nodded, joining him as he walked toward the elevator.

Gibbs cleared his throat, and when she glanced up, he spoke. "He wasn't the same man with you that he was with Ari."

She shrugged. "He couldn't use me in the same way. But...it was no surprise to me, finding out what he was capable of."

The doors to the elevator opened, and they stepped inside. "You seemed upset," Gibbs offered.

"That man, Edom," Ziva said sharply. "He was a better father than mine."

"Ziva--"

She shook her head, so he didn't push. Instead he moved on. "Abby's in an off mood today, too." He caught Ziva's quick reaction, and turned to face her. "What?"

"You forgot her birthday." She smiled briefly. "We all got her black roses." She waited for him to laugh, but Gibbs looked stricken. Ziva's eyes filled with fear and apology. "I am sure it will be fine if you say you are sorry!"

He reached out to hit the emergency stop button, covering his eyes with his other hand.

"What is it?" Ziva asked worriedly as Gibbs sagged against the wall. She stepped close to him.

"I got so busy..." he murmured.

She touched his arm, and Gibbs drew his hand away from his eyes. "Abby's birthday," he stopped. "It's the same day as Kelly's."

Ziva nodded in understanding, shifting so she could lean beside him.

"I love Abbs, of course, but celebrating with her is a good distraction."

"There is nothing wrong with remembering," Ziva said gently.

Gibbs shook his head. "I remember them...well, you were there. Every day of the year is some kind of birthday or anniversary—I remembered them all, the first few years. It's better this way."

"But you got distracted from the distraction?"

He nodded wearily. "Nearly missed her twenty-second birthday. And I've got Abby mad at me besides."

Ziva laid a hand lightly on Gibbs' shoulder, offering comfort. "Can I help?"

Gibbs started to shake his head, but then his eyes settled on hers.

Ziva raised her eyebrows in question.

He started to smile. "Are your ninja skills as impressive as Tony seems to think?"

She arched one eyebrow. "Of course."

Gibbs chuckled, reaching over to start the elevator again. "I need you to sneak something into the lab for me."


	28. 3x21 Bloodbath

**Conversations**

Do you ever start writing with one idea in mind and end up somewhere totally different? I didn't know this chapter was about Kate until about five minutes ago. Anyway, this follows Bloodbath (season 3), in which Abby is stalked by not one but two nutters.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs swept into the bullpen, still riled after his conversation with Mikel. Ziva was at her desk, the others nowhere in sight.

"Abby?" he asked abruptly.

"She went home. The others tried to drive her, but she refused, so they left, too."

Gibbs glared at Ziva, but she stared him down. "It seems she is quite, ah, inpowered now."

"Empowered," he snapped.

Ziva smiled. "Right."

He started to glare again, then stopped. "Thanks for giving her that taser."

Ziva nodded, glancing away, then said softly, "I am glad she is alright."

Gibbs sighed, releasing some of the tension that had pervaded the last two days. "Are you headed out?" he asked, picking up his coat.

"Sure." She turned off her computer monitor and rose to join him.

As they reached the elevator, Ziva grinned again. "I hear this is the safest we'll be all day," she said as she stepped inside.

Gibbs laughed. "Yeah."

"I rode up before you got here yesterday morning," she added. "She was even more distraught without you."

He turned a questioning expression in her direction. "Ziva?"

She shrugged. "I have known Abby long enough to know how...child-like she can be sometimes. And she shares your daughter's birthday. It makes sense to me that you would form a bond with her."

Gibbs didn't answer for a minute. "With Abby, she forms a bond with you. You have really no say in the matter."

Ziva nodded once. "That has been my experience, too." She paused, then added, "but she is an adult. With McGee before—I did not understand why you did not hold Abby responsible for her own actions."

The doors opened and they walked silently through the lobby, giving Gibbs time to reflect before responding. Ziva had a point; he hadn't paused to think before getting angry at McGee. But Gibbs knew that wasn't entirely about Abby. As they stepped into the darkness of the spring evening, he spoke slowly. "I suppose I was just too glad she was safe to yell at her."

Ziva looked at him sharply but didn't speak.

"It hasn't even been a year since Kate," he said gruffly, looking straight ahead as he walked.

She stopped, frozen. Gibbs turned after a moment, realizing she wasn't with him. "You do not mention her often," she said softly.

Gibbs closed his eyes, rubbing them with his hand. There were still moments sometimes, on the longer nights like yesterday's, when he would turn to tell Kate something, not Ziva. "More often than some others," he pointed out, his voice rough.

"You should not avoid her mention on my account," Ziva answered quietly.

He lifted his hand and looked at her. "I don't hold you responsible, Ziva."

She shrugged dismissively. "I came here to take her place, to right a wrong. I hold myself responsible."

Gibbs studied her as she avoided his eyes. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to lift this guilt from her. "I hope you find a better reason to be here."

Ziva lifted her eyes to his. "You all worry about each other," she said softly. "These past days, with Abby—I have never known anything like this, Gibbs."

He smiled faintly in the darkness. It wasn't quite an answer, but it was enough for now. "Come on," he said softly, beginning to walk again to where they'd parked. "When we finish worrying ourselves sick, we have to sleep."


	29. 4x19 Grace Period

**Conversations**

This chapter follows Grace Period, the episode where Paula Cassidy and her team are killed.

So guys, the 200 review mark is coming up! Leave me some? As added incentive, tomorrow is my birthday, and you'll totally start it off right by writing me a nice note to find in the morning!

________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva pulled up in front of Gibbs' house just as Hollis Mann stepped outside, a look of frustration clear on her face. Ziva ducked out of view as the woman left, then slid out of the car.

"Not now, I said," Gibbs snapped as Ziva stepped down the stairs into his basement.

Ziva stopped, uncertain, but when he saw her the strain faded from Gibbs' face and he jerked his head to signal her to join him.

He poured her a glass of bourbon, holding it out to her as she reached him.

Ziva sipped, then set it down. "It's alright that I am here?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Hollis just...it's too soon for this, with her."

"To deal with your grief?"

"No." Gibbs crossed to the boat, beginning to sand back and forth, while Ziva watched him in surprise.

"No?"

"You said you knew what she was going through," Gibbs said, changing the subject.

Ziva frowned, then answered. "When I was in the army, I was a leader in my unit. Four of my men and women were once killed on a mission that I sent them on." She continued to stare at the back of his head as he nodded once. Ziva added quietly, "but she did not—I did not understand her decision to die. So perhaps I did not know what she was going through."

Gibbs leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wood. He was silent, but Ziva waited. "You've said that Mossad wasn't like a family."

"No."

"Not the army either?"

Ziva shrugged though he couldn't see. "Not like this."

Gibbs turned to her, grief in his eyes. "I lost a family once, Ziva," he said roughly. "I know exactly what she was going through."

Ziva took an involuntary step toward him, but Gibbs returned to sanding before she reached him.

"But you said you are not grieving," she pointed out, confused.

His hands slowed, then continued. "It was supposed to be us," he said.

She could hear the tears in his voice and knew why he hadn't turned.

"It was supposed to be you, and Tony, and McGee. And I would have been the one in that car, watching--"

Ziva slid her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades.

Gibbs let one of his hands settle on top of hers.

"I would not want to lose any of you either," she whispered into his sweatshirt, the scent of sawdust flooding her senses. It was true. She'd tried not to remember the feeling, even as she did her best to provide a target for Cassidy. It had been awful to lose soldiers, but thinking about losing the team was far worse.

"So it's hard to be sorry she's gone, is all," Gibbs finished gruffly. "Because if she weren't..."

"Then we would be."

He squeezed her hand again.


	30. 5x01 Bury Your Dead

**Conversations**

Thanks for the reviews and birthday wishes! I appreciate both.

This chapter follows "Bury Your Dead," specifically the moment when they think Tony has died when his car explodes. The episode didn't really show reactions, but I think it's an interesting moment to think about in light of them all believing Ziva dead more recently.

**______________________________________________________________________  
**

In the split second it took for him to process what he was seeing, Gibbs heard Ziva gasp, "Tony!" and the sound resolved everything else into an instant of agony.

His rational mind kicked in after a moment, telling him it might not be Tony, it might be—but the instant had lodged in his gut and when McGee ran for the bathroom and Jenny darted back to her office to place calls, Ziva slamming into his arms seemed like the most honest reaction.

He held her tightly against him, her chest heaving with sobs of shock and loss though her cheeks were dry. And Gibbs opened his mouth to say all the rational things he was thinking, but none of them made any sense.

Ziva lifted her eyes to his, and Gibbs found them dilated and frantic.

"Tony," she said, her breathing ragged.

"I don't know," he answered. "I don't know," trying to fight back his own emotion.

And then the door handle clicked and Jenny came back in. They sprang apart, both wondering if she knew them well enough to interpret their expressions, to read how deeply they felt this loss. And as they leapt to attention, the act itself cauterized the wound. They were soldiers and they would go on. Without a word, they brushed past Jenny, to their desks, to their weapons, to what came next: vengeance.

Ziva faltered later, paralyzed by Tony's badge in her hand, reeling again with the idea of his death. A look from Gibbs restored her enough to go on.

That night might have been the night that broke them both, facing the darkness of their jobs with no comic relief, with no escape from pain except each other, both too broken to offer any solace. But then Ducky offered a flash of hope, and a man they both loved stepped out of an elevator.

Instead of mourning that night, Gibbs headed from Jenny's to Ziva's apartment. He knocked at the door, and when she opened it, held her as they let the relief wash over them at last. Tony was alive.

"It feels like a miracle," Ziva finally said, pulling back slightly.

"I thought you didn't believe in miracles."

She shook her head, wide-eyed. "I do not." She stepped inside, signaling him to follow her.

Gibbs grinned in appreciation and amusement as Ziva took a bottle of bourbon down from the liquor cabinet and poured two tumblers full.

She passed him one and they sat on the couch, legs touching, relishing the cessation of pain.

"Somehow I am still angry at him," Ziva laughed. "I would have sworn unqualified love this morning."

Gibbs smiled. "Me, too."

"The thought of--" Ziva stopped, glanced at him.

He nodded. They didn't need words for this.

"Thank you," Ziva said softly, surprising Gibbs.

"For what?"

She pursed her lips. "For all of this. For letting me come here, even knowing what you knew about my past."

Gibbs shrugged. "You could have shot me, and the two of you could have disappeared. You didn't."

Ziva nodded. "If you had been wrong, I might have. But he wasn't who I thought."

"Tony was."

She smiled. "He was who I hoped he'd be."

"And is."

The look of joy she turned toward him set off warning bells in the back of Gibbs' brain. He knew what it felt like, the eagerness with which you could reach out to your partner when death seemed so narrowly averted. But in the end no matter what had happened, they were all still alive, and he couldn't dampen Ziva's mood.

Gibbs held out his glass, clinking it against hers, and drank.

"Do you think he's alright tonight?" Ziva asked, studying the depths of her bourbon.

Gibbs sighed, then rose, setting his drink on the table. He held out a hand to Ziva. "Let's go find him." He pulled her up after him and they left, searching out their nearly-fallen comrade to offer the same comfort they gave each other.


	31. 4xx Mothers

**Conversations**

You know, with the exception of Abby's mom, and one reference to Gibbs' being dead, we don't know anything about any of their mothers. But comparatively plenty about their dads. Isn't that a bit odd? Also, I have no idea if there's actually an equivalent of mothers' day in Israel or not.

This isn't in line with canon anywhere, though I'd imagine it could be about season 4?

_________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs flipped open his phone as the Metro cops they'd been working with drove off with the bad guy. "Yeah, Abbs," the others heard him say. "We got him." He paused, listening. "With who? Oh, alright. Say hello for me." Gibbs snapped the phone closed again and turned to the group.

"She has to go do a camera-phone call-thing with her mother."

Ziva looked confused.

"Her mom is deaf," Gibbs filled in.

"For mothers' day!" McGee gasped.

Tony's eyes went wide. "Right!"

"Boss, I just need to..." McGee spluttered, gesturing with his cellphone toward the park across the street.

Gibbs nodded permission and McGee crossed the road, dialing his phone as he went. Tony quickly followed, a soft "Grandma!" floating back through the air to Ziva and Gibbs.

"Mothers' day?" She raised her eyebrows.

Gibbs frowned. "A holiday invented by a greeting card company."

Ziva looked confused.

"One day a year when you make breakfast in bread for your mom and kids build presents out of macaroni and leaves."

She chuckled at the image briefly, then her face stilled. "We do not have a holiday like that in Israel."

Gibbs leaned against the car, staring off into the distance. "I'd always get Kelly up early, and we'd make pancakes in our pajamas, just like my dad used to do with me when I was a little boy."

Ziva smiled sadly. "So it did have meaning, no matter who started it."

He nodded.

"What was your mother like?" Ziva asked curiously.

Gibbs shrugged. "You know, a mom. Suburban housewife, loved her kid, trained as a teacher but stopped a while to raise me. She read bedtime stories and let me eat less candy than I wanted. She died while I was in high school." He gave Ziva an irritated look. "There's not much to tell."

Ziva didn't reply, but her eyes were sad.

"Why?" Gibbs eyes narrowed. "What was your mom like?"

She exhaled slowly before answering. "She also died when I was young. Losing Tali—she couldn't bear it." Her eyes appealed to him for understanding and Gibbs confirmed it with a nod. Of course he understood. "My mother...had lived a hard life. Her parents had survived a concentration camp, and her whole childhood they moved over and over, never feeling safe, until they reached Israel in the seventies. I imagine that before she met my father, she was like Tali, full of laughter and joy. But he is a hard man, like her father, not easy to live with or love."

Gibbs smiled in sympathy.

"We would never have made her pancakes," Ziva added with a tight smile. "My father would have said it was her duty to care for us, as it was ours to care for Israel."

"Do you miss her?" Gibbs asked gently.

Ziva thought for a long moment. "I missed her when she handed me over to my father at thirteen, but she moved on to raising Tali. It is hard now to remember the days when we were close."

Gibbs studied her a moment, then shook his head. "I think you always miss that. Having someone who loved you without reason."

Ziva looked quickly at him, eyes wide and bright. "Perhaps."

"I know my home was never the same without her," Gibbs finished quietly. He glanced up as Tony returned, playfully throwing his phone up and catching it as he walked. "That's a good way to break the thing, DiNozzo," he called caustically, breaking the mood.

Tony looked to Ziva, rolling his eyes at Gibbs commenting on cell phone use.

McGee jogged after him across the street. He smiled as he rejoined the group. "Happy mothers' day, guys."

Ziva smiled tightly. Gibbs looked away.


	32. 6x19 Hide and Seek

**Conversations**

This chapter fits into Hide and Seek, though it's not too relevant to the episode. It is derived in part from the fact that yesterday I got stuck at a stoplight, waiting for the Baltimore Marathon to pass, for AN HOUR AND FORTY MINUTES. And it made me think about driving really fast.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs rolled his eyes at Tony's outrage at being left in nature as he and Ziva headed back to the car, both stepping carefully to avoid leaving traces of their passage through the woods. He moved this way instinctively but was pleased to notice it came as naturally to Ziva.

As they stepped back onto pavement and out of stealth mode, he said lightly, "your father really left you in the woods? That seems like some old fairy tale."

"Without even breadcrumbles," she answered, smiling.

Gibbs grinned. "Breadcrumbs, Ziver, breadcrumbs."

She shrugged.

"You know," he buckled his seat belt, "I think that might be the first happy childhood memory I've ever heard from you."

Ziva turned to him, surprised, as she slammed her door. "I suppose you and I spend the most time together in times of...angst?"

Gibbs chuckled. "So survival training wasn't the only fun you ever had."

Ziva smiled. "Hardly."

"Well, what else?" Gibbs asked, turning onto the highway and accelerating quickly.

She found herself pleased by his genuine interest. "The biggest thrill was when Ari would take me driving. We grew up in a city, but it didn't take long to get out in the desert, where we could fly on his bike. Or we would try to make it through the street traffic without getting pulled over for me being underage." She smiled at the memory. "I don't know what he was thinking, but he decided when he was sixteen that it was alright to let a twelve year old drive a motorcycle. I crashed a couple times, but we were never hurt worse than we could easily explain away."

"And DiNozzo thinks you drive that way just to annoy him," Gibbs snarked, slamming on the breaks as they neared the car ahead.

Ziva gasped as the seat belt caught her, then asked, "And you? How did you develop reckless driving habits?" She was smiling, teasing, but Gibbs' long pause gave her smile time to fade, left Ziva's eyes tense and worried.

They had slowed to five miles per hour, but Gibbs didn't turn to look at her. "My mom taught me to drive," he said carefully. "And I was always careful, because she told me to be. And when you have a kid, every moment in the car seems like a chance to get in an accident." He smiled reflexively and Ziva started to relax.

"Mexico. That was when I got—what? Reckless?" He darted his eyes at her for confirmation but Ziva sat silently, gaze fixed on his. "I couldn't fly there, didn't want to leave a trail. I drove for four days, faster and faster." He returned his gaze to the windshield as traffic picked up again. "At first I didn't care, it didn't matter to me if I crashed..." He stopped, leaving the emotion hanging, knowing she would understand.

Gibbs paused to change lanes, faster than even Ziva would have liked. "In the end," he finished, "the speed felt good, felt exhilarating. I kept going. Made the trip back in three days." He exhaled, the tension leaving his body as he completed the story.

Ziva nodded, then a smirk crossed her lips. "Plus it annoys Tony."

Gibbs snorted with laughter, his earlier humor returning. "Plus it annoys Tony."


	33. 3x10 Probie

**Conversations**

I'm trying to come up with new settings for chapters—can you tell? You will soon. Also, it's been a few days between updates because I'm running out of episodes that inspire me to insights about Gibbs and Ziva. To be fair there are only about a hundred episodes since she joined the show, so I've done nearly a third. More open than ever to suggestions. This one is for Probie.

________________________________________________________________________________

"You helped McGee today," Gibbs said softly behind her shoulder as Ziva reached for a box of cheerios.

Ziva turned slowly, smirking, just to emphasize that she had spotted him three aisles away and there was no way he could fluster her. "Hello, Gibbs."

His eyes were serious. "You helped McGee."

She nodded, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her eyes, but when she spoke her tone was brusque. "You were right. He is not my father or brother—and he is not a liar."

Gibbs glanced down at the basket she held. "Salami? You don't keep kosher?"

Ziva gave him an incredulous look. "The first night you met me, I ate the pepperoni pizza you brought Tony. You thought I kept kosher?"

Gibbs shrugged. When would women learn he didn't pay attention to what they ate?

Ziva collected her cereal and looked at his basket in turn. "Did you just pick that up for a prop?"

He gave her a look. "Needed some food." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the freezer section and Ziva raised her eyebrows skeptically. "They have this frozen falafel stuff--"

Ziva stopped him by waving her hands in the air. "No."

Gibbs chuckled at her flustered expression.

***

Forty minutes later, they were back at Gibbs' house while Ziva fried fresh falafel on the stove.

"That smells great," he said appreciatively.

"Better than anything from a box," she muttered, expertly flipping the balls.

"So why were you so helpful?" Gibbs asked casually.

Ziva glanced sharply over her shoulder, lips drawn tight. She took a long breath before beginning to speak slowly. "Your first kill is hard enough to handle without it also being the first one where you think you might have acted wrongly."

Gibbs nodded, unsurprised. "Who was your first?" he asked softly.

Ziva flipped the falafel to drain on a paper towel while she assembled the rest of the meal. She worked busily while she spoke, not making eye contact. "The first kill—I am not sure. It was while I was in the army. We were all firing, they were never real people with real names." Her voice betrayed the undercurrent of shame beneath her indifference. "But like McGee—I once planted a bomb, to take out a target, someone marked for assassination by Mossad. And his wife was there when it went off."

Gibbs' eyes snapped to hers as she looked over at him, understanding. "In Desert Storm," he offered quietly, "we couldn't always tell the difference between unfriendlies and civilians."

Ziva nodded, sadness in her eyes. "McGee--"

"McGee can't be spared that," Gibbs cut her off. "He doesn't get to be off the hook, anymore than you or I do. It'll make him more careful for next time. Experience, good or bad, makes better agents."

She nodded once in acceptance while setting out their plates.

"Ziva," he added softly, opening beers for both of them.

She looked up.

"I'm glad you're looking out for McGee."

"Of course," Ziva began, but Gibbs was shaking his head.

"Not of course. You didn't have to spy on Jenny, or encourage McGee."

Ziva took the seat opposite him. "We are a team, no?" she said casually to her plate.

She missed Gibbs' smile at her words. "Yes," he answered after a beat. "We are."


	34. 7xx Loss of Language

**Conversations**

So, I think the episode itself (Good Cop, Bad Cop) deviates too far from the relationship I've created for me to write about it. Let's just think of this piece as my own canon. Though I will say that I forgave the writers' for Gibbs' distance in Reunion when he reached out and touched her hand with a _finger_ and all of his emotions were conveyed with that one touch. But I still prefer my imaginings to theirs! Oh, well. This falls at some point shortly after the events of 7x04.

_________________________________________________________________________________

It felt like relief, every time she realized that she was an NCIS agent, was no longer Mossad. The anxiety that had become her way of life would suddenly vanish every time she remembered, every time one of the others gently called her 'Probie' or tried to make her do grunt work. It was relief deeper than she could have ever imagined. And so by the end of three weeks Ziva rarely forgot her new status, dwelt only occasionally in the moments of despair that had nearly claimed her life.

And then there they were, on a case, investigating the death of an Orthodox Jewish marine, and as she stepped into his synagogue beside Gibbs, Ziva was flooded with the sound of spoken Hebrew. Something inside her that had been taut suddenly eased. She sighed with the simple pleasure of her native language, of not having to make any effort to understand, to express herself.

The thought flashed through her mind in an instant, _This is what it feels like every time I go home. _Before she could stop it, her eyes were flooding with tears, she was trembling with emotion. As he glanced around the lobby, Gibbs glimpsed her face, and in moments he was steering her with an arm around her shoulders, back out into the street, into a fall afternoon that was far colder than she was accustomed to.

He sat with her in the back of the van, not pressuring her to speak, while Ziva wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face, sobbing silently.

Finally she picked her face up, wiped away her tears with the tissue Gibbs handed her, and waited for his questions.

"What's up?" he asked simply, lightly.

She started to laugh at his tone, only to find new tears in her eyes, which she blinked away. Ziva took a deep breath before answering. "They were speaking Hebrew in there."

Gibbs looked at her skeptically, waiting for the rest.

Her mouth gaped a moment as Ziva tried to find words. "In Moscow," she finally said, "and Paris. You did not speak the language fluently."

"No." He shook his head once.

"Do you remember—It is such a sudden pleasure, to hear your own language when you do not expect it."

She could see the understanding in his eyes, the sudden sympathy. It was too much, and she squeezed her own eyes closed again. "I can never go back there," she whispered. "I can never return to my sister's grave or walk along the beach at Jaffa or wander through a crowded market where everyone speaks the language I heard from my mother's lips." Her jaw was trembling, and when Gibbs scooted closer to wrap his arms around her, she couldn't help crying again.

He hugged her tightly. "We'll make new history for you, here," he offered gently.

She nodded into his shoulder, trying to smile. "Of course."

"But you can never go home. You wouldn't be safe."

Ziva shook her head. _Never_. It had seemed a blessing until this moment, until this reminder that Mossad wasn't the only thing she had left behind in Israel. How many people, places that she had loved as a child were lost to her forever? Here her history began in the bullpen four and a half years ago, when she walked in and announced she was going to protect a man who had killed an NCIS agent. No matter what she'd let slip over the years, none of them could begin to imagine Ziva at seven, in a pink tutu on a stage, or singing nervously before a crowd at fifteen, searching out her father and finding her brother and sister smiling back. If anyone else in the world knew that she'd liked peanut butter and pickle sandwiches the year that she was ten, they were half a world away and could never tease her about it. For a brief moment, her isolation felt nearly as deep as it had in a cell in Somalia.

But then Gibbs squeezed her arm and pulled back to see her face. "Ziver," he said gently, and it was enough. Enough history to get through to the next moment.

Ziva scrubbed at her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket. "I am sorry," she said, standing abruptly. Gibbs glared at her and she smiled slightly. "I know, I know. We had better go do the interview."

She jumped down from the back of the van before he could say anything further, but as they stepped back through the doors of the synagogue and the rabbi called out, "Shalom!", Gibbs laced his fingers through hers, and tried to remind Ziva of what remained to her.


	35. 6x05 Nine Lives

**Conversations**

From a suggestion someone left: A chapter from Nine Lives, prior to Ziva taking her vacation in Israel with Rivkin.

I took the time this weekend to rearrange the chapters in chronological order in my computer, and I actually like them better that way. Should I try to reorder the chapters here too? Let me know what you think. Sigh. At least the leaves are turning. Happy fall! ~Em

_____________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs stepped into the bullpen and caught sight of Ziva, perched on the edge of his desk, her face tense although he doubted anyone else would have noticed. He glanced around for the rest of the team and found them absent, so he headed toward her at his normal speed, willing to pretend along that things were normal, at least until he knew why they weren't.

"Ziver?" he asked as he approached from the hallway.

She glanced past him, checking for the rest of the team. "I need to take a week off," she said abruptly.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in question as he walked around her to set a file down on his desk, using his silence to push her to talk.

"It takes a full day to travel each way to Israel, so I really couldn't make the trip any shorter and still have time to..." She cut herself off.

"Israel." He tried to keep his face equally unreadable. What could her father want her back for already?

Ziva nodded.

"Going back so soon?"

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Only for a week."

Gibbs slid into his chair, rested his elbows on the desk and looked up at her over the coffee cup folded between his hands. "What's in Israel?" He waited, despite her discomfort. He knew what she would have said had Tony asked. 'Sand' she would have quipped, 'and lots of attractive Israeli women.' He knew Ziva wouldn't try to tease her way out of it with him, but her silence was suddenly worrisome. "What's going on?" he asked sternly.

Ziva took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "There is a man I am going to see."

He frowned up at her. She'd mentioned sleeping with a partner when she got back the last time. "Well, I guess we're all entitled to a little rest sometimes. Used most of mine up in Mexico."

Ziva tried to force a smile. "Don't worry, I have no plans to settle down out of range of cellular phones and email."

Gibbs snorted. "I'm still not sure Abby's kidding when she talks about putting a tracking chip in my arm."

Ziva giggled genuinely. "She did make McGee get one, for his dog."

Gibbs shook his head in bemusement. "Of course you can take the time, Ziva."

She nodded, her brow furrowing a bit.

Glancing up, Gibbs caught her expression. "This is just a vacation?" he asked, letting her see the worry in his face.

Ziva stood straighter, defensive. She looked at him for a moment of silence, her eyes telling him everything he needed to know. This was not her own whim. This was work.

"Your father's not calling you back?" Gibbs asked, frowning.

Ziva shook her head. "No. But—I am still Mossad," she said softly. "He _could_," she emphasized.

Gibbs nodded that he understood. If she wanted to stay with them, she had to obey orders. "Tell me when you can, if you can," he said firmly, quietly.

Ziva nodded. "It's just a week," she said, as lightly as she could.

Gibbs looked up at her, remembering the fear and loss they had shared in the past when Jenny had acted strangely, when Tony had. At least Ziva was not trying to lie, was being as clear as she could about whom she was obeying and why.

She gestured over his shoulder and he turned to see Tony heading toward them from the elevator. By the time Gibbs looked back to Ziva, she had headed to her desk, to her work.

There were still a few seconds until Tony was in earshot. "Be safe," he said, commanding, imploring, then glared at Tony as he approached. He caught the faint tightening around Ziva's mouth as she took in his words, and the signal of fear made Gibbs afraid in turn.


	36. 4x07 Sandblast

**Conversations**

Thanks to suchrandomness for the suggestion--this is for Sandblast (4x07), about the scene where Ziva disarms the bomb in the rafters, about which much else has been written (including by me, in one chapter of Completely Insufferable!).

**_________________________________________________________________________________**

"To success—sort of." Abby raised her glass to the others and downed it quickly. "We can drink again if you ever get Shareef," she grinned.

"Hey, Ziva stopped _two_ bombings!" Tony protested, leaning across Ziva to point the neck of his beer at Abby for emphasis.

Ziva grinned in pleasure at Tony's pride, but glanced up in time to catch a flash of dissatisfaction on Gibbs' face.

He met her eyes sternly, then dropped a kiss on Abby's cheek. "Gotta go, Abbs."

"But the night is young!" Abby objected, sloshed already.

Gibbs shrugged and headed for the door, signaling to Ziva with his eyes.

She followed him out, slipping on her coat as she stepped outside; the November night was chilly.

"Yes?" she asked as she caught up to him.

Gibbs turned to her, glaring fiercely. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear yesterday, but going in after that bomb is not something to be proud of!"

Ziva jerked back in surprise, hurt by his tone. "They would have blown our crime scene!" she protested. "I only wanted to..."

"To what?" he stepped close to her, his voice still hard.

Ziva pursed her lips, ego smarting.

"What?" Gibbs pursued.

Ziva took two steps past him, so none of the others could see them through the bar window. Gibbs followed her. "In Mossad, the call I made would have been the right one," she said firmly. "The job is the most important thing, no matter the danger." She caught his eye as she finished to make her point.

Gibbs grabbed her shoulders angrily. "You think I care more about evidence than the two of you?" He was nearly shouting.

Her eyes went wide. Ziva felt like a little girl for a moment, caught completely off guard by her father's wrath.

Gibbs took in her instinctive fear and released Ziva at once. "You can't do that," he ordered. "If you cut the wrong cord and you and Tony--"

"I knew what I was doing!" she retorted. "You have to trust that I can--"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Ziva glared at him, then sighed, distilling his point from all Gibbs' anger. When she spoke, her voice was calm. "You cannot be so afraid of people dying that you keep us from doing our jobs."

"Not people. You."

She felt for a moment like she couldn't breathe. She was used to her father's anger, to being yelled at. Ziva wasn't sure she'd ever been told something like this.

Her vulnerability was plain on her face, and Gibbs set his hands on her shoulders again, gently this time. "Ziva, of all of you, I know you understand loss."

She nodded, rapt.

"You and Tony..." his voice trailed off, but she nodded again. She understood, and was overwhelmed. "You matter far more than the job, at least to me," he said finally.

Ziva managed a small smile, still reeling.

Gibbs pressed a kiss to her forehead and walked off into the night.

Ziva stayed standing there on the sidewalk a few minutes before returning to the others in the bar, trying to make sense of the world as it restructured itself around her, suddenly becoming a place where she mattered for more than what she could do.


	37. 3x18 Bait

**Conversations**

This is for the 3rd season episode 'Bait' where a teenager who's being controlled by...um, terrorists, I think...demands his dead mother. Of course Gibbs goes in as a negotiator, figures sh*t out, and eventually Jenny reveals she's found his mother and the family is reunited. This scene follows that. Also, this chapter is chronologically after the chapters for Family Secret and Ravenous, and prior to yesterday's. Meaning, Gibbs and Ziva aren't meant to have as much history in this chapter as they do in most of the others.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs smiled, glancing back over his shoulder for one more image of Jenny standing with the crying, hugging Meyers family. He only barely turned in time to keep from walking in Ziva where she stood in the hall, her eyes, too, locked on the scene.

She looked sharply at him, and he was nearly deflected by the defensiveness in her posture before he caught the hint of tears brightening her eyes.

"Ziva?" he questioned intently, leaning in to see if she was really crying.

She looked away quickly. "Yes?" she asked. Her voice was a little huskier than normal, and Gibbs frowned.

"Is something wrong?"

Ziva shook her head but didn't meet his eyes, instead looking past him to the family reuniting.

Gibbs stepped around her, looking over her shoulder, trying to see what she saw. It took only a moment for it to hit him. "Your sister was lost in a bombing," he said softly.

Her body went rigid, and as she stiffened she pressed lightly against him. She didn't pull away and Gibbs knew that though it seemed casual, for her to stay against him was a sign of her trust.

"Yes," Ziva whispered.

They stood silently as Kody's father tilted his head back and laughed in joy at something his wife had said.

"They never found her body," Ziva finally said, still watching. "For years, against all reason and evidence, I hoped."

"For this," Gibbs finished her thought.

She nodded, her hair brushing his chin. "I am not sure I have ever been so deeply jealous," she said simply. Tears shook her voice, though Gibbs was sure that if he stepped to see, her cheeks would be dry.

Disregarding his age and all cool defiance, Kody clutched both his parents' hands as Jenny waved them out of her office.

Gibbs put a hand on Ziva's waist and pulled her back out the way so they could leave.

They boy turned to Gibbs as he passed, nodding his deep thanks, his eyes alight with happiness. He was barely recognizable as the boy who had frantically held Gibbs and his classmates hostage only hours ago.

Gibbs nodded back stoically, wishing desperately to be so transformed. He hadn't felt it as intensely since the car ride from the airport to his house when he returned from Desert Storm, forty-five minutes of desperate hope that his family would come running down the front steps and into his was beside him now and took in his expression, grasped his hand tightly for a moment.

"Me neither," he answered softly.

Ziva released his hand. "I could have made that kill shot," she said brokenly. "Tony did not want to, but I nearly did. To save your life, to save those other children, the other families..."

He shrugged. "We didn't know. I might have made the same call."

She shook her head, her curls brushing his shoulder as they watched the elevator doors close. "I do not think of children the way you do, you Americans. I am too used to _children_ who do not think of children the way you do, children who can walk into a building with a bomb on and mean it."

"You don't have to justify that to me."

She shook her head. "But this wouldn't have happened. The Meyers—they would have been together but their son would have been dead."

Gibbs sighed, relieved events hadn't fallen out that way. "Dwelling on what could have been doesn't get us anywhere, Ziva," he finally said firmly. He had learned it the hard way, and it was the only thing he had to offer her.

She shook her head.

He looked down at her, but her eyes were closed.

"Sometimes it's the only solace," she whispered.


	38. 4x14 Blowback

**Conversations**

Do you all remember Blowback? Middle of season 4, the team kidnaps an Israeli arms dealer, yadda, yadda, end up nearly taking out Grenouille while Ducky is undercover talking to him? This takes place on the plane, on the way to Canada, where Ducky was to meet Grenouille. Credit for the episode suggestion goes to You-won't-see-an-iguana-here—thanks! And since I, like Gibbs, probably don't express my affection often or well enough, thanks to all of you who have been reviewing! It really makes my day and is part of what gets me to post as frequently as I do.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva stood in the aisle of the airplane, grinning as she watched Tony talking to Ducky—or, as he was demanding to be called, Charles Harrow. Tony was trying as hard as could to break the man's concentration on staying in character; at the moment, there was some exchange going on about the relative strengths of rugby teams from different Universities that had Ducky gritting his teeth.

She glanced to her left and saw Gibbs sitting staring out the window. The smile faded from her face, and she slid purposefully into the seat beside him.

"Goliath," she said simply.

Gibbs turned to her, his eyes inquiring.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"Oh, state will prosecute," Gibbs said dismissively.

She was clearly dissatisfied.

Gibbs frowned, questioning. "Are his arms dealings related to your sister's bombing?"

Ziva jerked back an inch, caught off guard. "No. But why should it matter? His actions are responsible for many deaths. For someone's sister."

He nodded in agreement. "And we'll make sure he faces the consequences. What else would you have us do?"

Now Ziva frowned. "I was thinking I could call my father."

"For extradition," Gibbs clarified.

Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, then Ziva realized he hadn't understood. "If he sanctions it, I could--"

"Ziva!" Gibbs' eyes were wide in surprise as he hissed her name.

"What?" Ziva hissed back, controlling her volume so as not to attract Tony and Ducky's attention. "Tony says you once shot out the gas tank of a man who'd killed a marine, rather than take him in. Biblical justice seems to be your variety!"

"He was shooting back!"

She smiled coyly. "I will not shoot him, just slip something tasteless in his water, mimic a heart attack." She looked at Gibbs skeptically. "Or something else, that I haven't told you about. It would be easy!"

"No," Gibbs said firmly. "That's not how we do things here."

Ziva shrugged. "We're headed to Canada right now. Jenny seems to be willing to do things my way."

"Jenny's getting irrational. She just today told me she'd had DiNozzo undercover for months."

She darted a concerned look at him.

"Not now," Gibbs said quickly, glancing to the front of the plane. "We can discuss it later."

"There is nothing to be gained by keeping Goliath alive," Ziva returned to her point. "And plenty money to be wasted on court fees."

Gibbs sighed. She wasn't wrong, but he forgot sometimes that this was the place her mind went. "Take it to Jenny if you want when we get back."

Ziva nodded in satisfaction and got up, heading forward to watch Tony's antics.

Gibbs frowned out the window after she'd left. He knew Jenny wouldn't approve assassinating Goliath, no matter how she felt about other arms dealers, not once she'd calmed down from the excitement of La Grenouille's appearance. Or maybe she would. No one on his team seemed to be who he thought they were anymore.

But he shrugged to himself as he laid his head back against the plexiglass window. Hell, he'd never been bothered by killing those who needed to die. He just wished he knew why he was on a plane to another country to get rid of this one in particular.


	39. 3x19 7x04 Iced and Good Cop, Bad Cop

**Conversations**

This comes directly after chapter 37 (Bait), just for context. For once I'm including a snippet of dialogue rather than a description of the episode, because the episode itself is irrelevant, this is just about one moment. Dialogue tags are mine. And then it works its way into Good Cop, Bad Cop. Who'd have thought? Not me when I started writing this chapter 45 minutes ago, that's for sure. Enjoy!

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_ "Downing was on a revenge mission," Ziva speculated._

_ Gibbs glared. "First lieutenants don't go on revenge missions."_

_ She shrugged, nonchalant. "I would."_

_ "They have more control than you do," he threw back, and passed her to examine the plasma, missing the hurt look that flickered briefly across her face._

***

He found her waiting in the parking garage. From a distance she appeared to be leaning against his car, but as Gibbs neared her he noted that Ziva's entire body was taut, her muscles practically trembling as she fought to stay still.

Gibbs approached her and waited, impassive, for her to speak. It didn't take long; she was tightly wound.

"You do not think I have control?" Ziva burst out.

He took a beat before answering, to keep it from becoming a shouting match. The garage echoed more than he'd like. "Ziva, if you even stopped to think, I'd be dead." His tone was harsher than he'd meant it to be.

She flinched back, but the car was behind her and there was no room for her to move anywhere else. So she straightened up, ready to fight. "You think that was a reflex, shooting my brother?"

Gibbs lounged back against the car behind him. "Ziva, I think you were trained to act first and ask questions later. And you've come a long way, but that's a lot of training to work against."

Ziva shifted; he could see how badly she wanted to move and gave her credit for standing her ground. If he didn't think she'd feel trapped, he'd ask her to sit in the car with him, get out of the cold, but he could tell that was a bad a idea.

She finally spoke. "Just because I said I would go on a revenge mission—haven't you ever wanted revenge against the man who killed your family?"

Now Gibbs was tense. If only she knew, he thought. But this was not the place for that discussion, and the hardening in his eyes told her so. He closed his eyes, took a breath, searching for words that would offer her comfort against his hurtful—but accurate—judgment. "Ziva," he said softly, opening his eyes, "it took me a long time to find the kind of control you need."

His admission visibly relaxed her.

"When I joined NIS, I was fresh out of the Marines, where I'd been a sniper."

She nodded.

"Plus," he snorted, "I was Mike Franks' probie, and he was hardly a stickler for the rules. Didn't mind if I bent a few in favor of pounding in faces that needed pounding."

Ziva raised an eyebrow.

Gibbs chuckled in memory. "And then one time we went on a stakeout and I brought my sniper rifle—just for the scope! But he realized he'd let me go too far." Now he frowned. "For a month, he didn't let me carry a gun, just a pad of paper."

Ziva's eyes went wide in a alarm.

"Don't worry," he shook his head. "I won't take your gun again. We learned the hard way that was a bad idea when I nearly got shot. But in that month, we solved just as many crimes." His eyes bore into hers as he made his point. "Ziva, there's only one way to get revenge, but many ways to get justice. And that's what we're supposed to be after."

She pursed her lips, then nodded once in agreement. "So how do I learn it?" she asked sharply, though her body language had eased considerably. "If you want me to control myself, what do you want me to do?"

Gibbs looked at her intently again. "Raise your gun just as fast," he answered. "And then wait if you can. Make sure the person you're about to kill is really someone who deserves it."

She looked as shocked at this second mention of Ari as he had when she'd mentioned Shannon; now it was she who glanced nervously around the garage.

"You made the right choice for me," Gibbs said softly, tugging her eyes back to him with his voice. "But I'm still not sure if you know whether it was the right choice for you. And you have to learn enough control to decide that before you pull the trigger."

"There's not always time," Ziva objected quickly.

Gibbs' eyebrows quirked. "No, there's not. But it's the ones when there is that are hardest to live with later."

Ziva looked down, to the right, remembering. Gibbs' eyes were drawn too to the memory of a pool of blood that he spent two days scrubbing out of his basement floor.

She had nothing left to say, no more rebuttals. He wasn't wrong and she knew it, so she stepped to the side and let him get into his car.

"Goodnight, Ziva," Gibbs said lightly as he slammed the door, and she nodded in response.

*

That night Ziva laid awake, wondering what could have happened if she'd cried out. Would Ari still have shot Gibbs if she'd reached out to him, after he'd told his story but before he pointed his gun? Would her knowledge, her forgiveness or judgment have been enough for him to want to redeem himself?

It was not the first night she laid awake, nor the last, as she struggled to find control of reflexes that had been bred deep. But years later, her first night in a hard bunk in a ship lurching its way toward Somalia, Ziva finally had a moment to herself and found that she had the control she'd always wanted. She had burst through the door and pointed her gun—and had not killed Tony. Had had just enough control to keep from doing another thing she could not take back. The days since had been horrible, but there was a hint of returning joy in the fact that she had become something of the woman Gibbs wanted her to become before she'd left.

She embraced the realization by giving Daniel Shalev ten seconds to explain himself, which kept his death off her conscience. And when she finally told Gibbs what had happened, she saw the approval in his eyes, though he said nothing in front of Mordecai. It had taken her years to earn that flicker in Gibbs' eyes, and it was enough to restore her a little, enough to ensure she would never go back.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N This chapter is designed to come before Jeopardy; I'd suggest reading that afterward, to see what I was building toward in their relationship.


	40. 6x16 Bounce

**Conversations**

Ummm... for once I don't have much to put up here. This one is about Bounce. It was recent enough that I expect you all remember it. And this story has nearly 300 reviews! That's exciting.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva darted her eyes skeptically at Gibbs while they waited for McGee to load the gear into the truck and Tony to finish a call about the BOLO.

The third time she looked at him surreptitiously, Gibbs turned to her and gave her a look. "What?"

Ziva shrugged, flummoxed. "I am still startled that you spoke so much."

Gibbs' face broke out in a brief grin, and Ziva looked even more wary. "You should have seen me when I was a probie. So eager to please, Mike had to tell me to shut up on more than one occasion."

She gazed at him in wonder, then recomposed herself and said drily, "I suppose dour silence doesn't get you far if you're just starting out at NCIS."

He laughed openly, and saw even McGee poke his head out to see from around the side of the van.

Ziva shook her head, familiar with him enough that she couldn't be put off long by the changes in his behavior. "What's going on?" she asked, serious now.

Gibbs made eye contact with her for one intense second, then shook his head.

Ziva stared at him, perplexed, but nodded.

*

She was waiting for him in the observation room a few hours later, while Tony prepared to interrogate their suspect. Citing one of Gibbs' old standards in interrogation tactics, Tony was letting the man stew and had assigned Gibbs and Ziva to watch him.

Leaning her shoulder against the glass and turning to Gibbs, Ziva posed her question again. "What's going on?"

Gibbs sighed. He stared straight into interrogation while he spoke. "I tried to come back and pretend there were no consequences, and only Ducky called me on it."

"What?" Ziva was surprised.

"I can't help thinking...about where I was while you were all investigating this. Drinking a beer on a beach."

"Recovering," Ziva pointed out.

Gibbs shrugged.

"We didn't know as much then!" she added defensively. "You might have sent Renny to jail, too."

He nodded equivocally. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Ziva frowned. "So to make up for it...you're being helpful?"

"I usually get to do this part," he said softly to the glass. "The responsibility, the blame, the worry that you've making the wrong choice and it'll get someone killed. It's the one thing I get to protect the rest of you from. Cause God knows it can be hard, Ziva."

Ziva watched him carefully, taken aback by how open he was being.

Gibbs' eyes tracked the suspect as he paced the chamber. "Tony was ready but..."

"You didn't protect him," she finished the thought.

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope. So at least I'll help now, in case it's not too late."

Ziva reached out and laid a hand on Gibbs' shoulder. He turned his head toward her.

Before she could respond, the door opened wide and Tony breezed in, firing questions. Ziva jerked her hand away at once, and looked on in continuing bemusement as Gibbs rapidly answered all the particulars of Tony's questions.

Tony waved Gibbs ahead of him as they headed into interrogation, then stopped in the doorway to jerk his finger at Gibbs and mouth to Ziva, "what the hell?" with a look of abject bewilderment on his face.

Ziva gave a knowing smile and an elaborate shrug all at once, forcing Tony to roll his eyes and then hurry after Gibbs. Turning back to the window, Ziva studied Gibbs while he couldn't see, wondering what other emotions lay buried beneath the silence and stoicism that kept them all, even sometimes her, at a distance.


	41. 3x15 Head Case

**Conversations**

I've gotten no fewer than four requests to write a chapter for Head Case, about Ziva's story of the decapitated head, but for a while I couldn't figure out how to do it--what I try to do here is to tell pieces of conversations that Ziva and Gibbs can *only* have with each other, and if she was so open about the head with the whole team, I didn't see a need to expand upon that. But I figured out a way to do it, or at least one that works for me. Let me know what you think?

Also, the chapter for Bounce went up pretty late last night, so go back and check out chapter 40 if you missed it!

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs stepped into autopsy, the doors whooshing shut behind him, but instead of finding Ducky leaning over the tables of remains from the human chop-shop, he found Ziva.

She glanced up quickly at the sound of the doors, jerking her hand away from the body she stood beside, but when she saw only Gibbs, Ziva relaxed again. Her hand seemed to resettle where it had been of its own volition.

"Is that Wayne?" Gibbs asked, taking in the body's headless state.

Ziva shook her head. "No. Anonymous so far."

He looked at her critically. "Then why the interest?"

She glanced down at where her hand lay on the man's right forearm. "Reminds me of someone," she said, so softly Gibbs stepped closer to hear.

He followed her gaze down to the patch of skin her thumb was rubbing over. "What was on his arm?"

"A tattoo."

Gibbs nodded. "The man you told Tony about."

"Yes." She was staring at the abrupt line where the man's neck had once met his head.

"Killed by Hamas."

Now Ziva nodded.

Gibbs stood and watched her, at a loss for words. There was no reason for her to share her grief with him, and this seemed a normal enough reaction, for Ziva anyway. But he stepped closer anyway, letting his silent presence weigh upon her.

After a minute, she spoke. "When we were teasing Tony, you said you'd seduced someone for information."

Gibbs frowned at the apparent non sequitur. "Sure. Sometimes it's the easier thing to do."

"Yes." She looked up at him, then back to the spot her thumb was pressing. "Shortly after I joined Mossad—The first time I was sent on that sort of mission, the man who was my target had...perverse desires." She flinched at the words, but glanced up and shrugged to Gibbs to tell him she was alright, that that was not the trauma in the story she was telling.

"Simon was one of my brother Ari's closest friends." She studied the body again. "I adored him, and he protected me like he thought I was _his_ little sister," now she looked up to smirk, "though he definitely didn't."

Gibbs smiled back, nodding that he understood her innuendo.

Ziva's lips thinned as she went on. "When they wanted to send me undercover into Hamas, to seduce another man who liked to hurt women, Simon intervened. Took the job himself."

Her eyes closed, her face stilled. Gibbs knew she was burying the expression of grief that was threatening to take over her features.

"And you got his head in the mail." He finished it so she wouldn't have to.

"Yes." She jerked her head in confirmation, opening her eyes and staring calmly back at him. She was no longer touching the body, but instead the fingers of her left hand were rubbing the same spot on her own left arm.

"I'm sorry," he said, honestly, gently.

Ziva shrugged diffidently. "I am alright. It was just an unexpected reminder, opening that trunk and seeing...what we saw."

"Okay." Gibbs let her play it off, a little surprised she had even admitted as much as she had.

As the doors opened behind him, he turned quickly, blocking her body with his to give Ziva whatever privacy she needed as she composed herself.

Ducky raised his eyebrows at the sight of the two of them. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Well, Duck," Gibbs stepped toward him and began to lay out the questions he had originally come down to ask. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ziva leave autopsy, avoiding a drawn out conversation with the doctor.

In the bullpen that afternoon Tony made a crack about sleeping around for information, the shock of their earlier admission having finally worn off enough for him to find the humor, and Gibbs glanced quickly at Ziva. She smiled back, doing her best to assure him she was fine, and he almost believed it.


	42. 7x05 Code of Conduct

**Conversations**

Chapter 42! And what is the answer to life, the universe and everything if not pulling pranks on your friends?

All credit for finding this missing moment goes to Hawkeye4077--I hope you like what I came up with to fill it! Actually, I hope you all like it. Less angst-ridden than usual; if you cry this time, I did something wrong :)

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs glanced in the window and recognized Ziva instantly from behind, her long dark hair cascading down her back. He stood several seconds before a woman leaving smiled at him and he realized he was grinning widely, an expression that felt foreign on his face but just right at this moment.

He opened the door again for himself and entered, stepping into her peripheral vision and getting a nod of greeting before he touched her, resting his hand in the small of her back as he leaned in to speak. He knew she was still more skittish than she used to be.

"Morning, Ziver," he said lightly, and she smiled back.

"Good morning, Gibbs."

"Probie, I mean." His eyes twinkled.

Ziva glared half-heartedly.

The woman ahead of her in line finished ordering and stepped out of the way, and Ziva ordered the day's tea special. Gibbs stepped up beside her, ordering three of one of the fancier coffees and handing over his credit card to pay for them both.

Ziva looked at him suspiciously.

Gibbs smiled politely back, refusing to react, signing the credit card slip and guiding her to the waiting area.

When they got there he paused before commenting. "You got pretty mad at Tony the other day. It really bothers you to be called that? We all took our turn."

Ziva opened her mouth, then closed it, composing an answer. Gibbs waited patiently until she spoke. She directed her words to the counter. "Just when I think things will finally be normal, will resume some semblance of actually being my life, Tony has to rub in every thirty seconds that everything has changed."

Gibbs was chagrined, but didn't immediately cede the point. "He didn't mean to, Ziver. When Tony's not sure where things stand, he teases, he jokes. You know that."

She shrugged. "I suppose."

"And," he said slowly, studying her profile, "things _are_ different. There's no use in denying that."

Ziva closed her eyes a moment, staring into the past. "I know that."

"How are you doing?" he asked gently, leaning closer to try to get her attention again.

She met his gaze, smiling gently. "Not perfect, but...better. Fewer dreams." She tried to look pleased, but the circles under her eyes told Gibbs she still wasn't sleeping well, that she hadn't ordered caffeinated tea for the taste. "Like you said, things are different."

"Well," he offered, "we'll try to give you some stability where we can."

Now it was Ziva who broke into an uncharacteristic grin. "You'd better stop bringing in cider, then!"

Gibbs laughed. "I was warming you guys up."

Ziva frowned, confused. "We were not cold."

He shook his head. "I meant, I was getting you ready."

She looked instantly suspicious. "For what?"

Gibbs spoke nonchalantly, but his eyes twinkled. "In the evidence this week, Abby found dozens of ingredients for pranks."

Ziva's eyes narrowed further.

"Among others, some "delicious" food coloring—two pranks in one!"

She began to smile. "You brought cider one day, untainted, so we would not question it today?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Why would I do that?"

Ziva tilted her head back in a laugh. The sight was as much of a reward as Gibbs could ask for for everything they'd been through that summer and fall.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "Tony and McGee will still be suspicious, no matter what I brought in yesterday...But they wouldn't be suspicious if _you_ brought them coffee."

Ziva's eyes danced. "I'll do it," she said firmly.

The barista signaled that their drinks were ready and Ziva sipped her tea slowly, watching while Gibbs removed his coffee from the carton and added a packet of powder to one of the others. He pulled a pen from his pocket and made an unobtrusive dot on the lid. "This one's for Tony," he told Ziva.

"What about McGee?" she asked.

"Oh, Abby has something planned for him," Gibbs smirked.

Ziva looked at him sideways. "And if you had not run in to me here? Would I have had tainted coffee, too?"

Gibbs shrugged with feigned innocence. "I guess you'll never know, Agent David."

She smiled and added her cup to the tray of drinks, carrying them out of the shop. She and Gibbs walked in companionable silence back to the Navy yard, enjoying the crisp fall air, the turning leaves, and each others' presence.

When they got through security, Gibbs quickly told her, "you can walk up, I'm taking the elevator down to the lab. Abby has something rigged so she can watch McGee get what's coming to him."

Ziva nodded. "I will see you later," she told him, smirking faintly.

As she entered the stairwell, Gibbs heard her mutter to herself, "this will teach Tony to call me _Probie_." Gibbs just smiled. One step closer to normal.


	43. 5x03 Exfile

**Conversations**

For the episode after Family in season 5, when one of Gibbs' exes turns up as a witness and Hollis is investigating with him. Now, until I'd almost finished this, it didn't occur to me this was the last episode with Hollis, and then I had to change a bunch. I'm not sure I like it as much now, it's not as light. But if you remember a later episode with her, let me know, because I'm not entirely sure. P.S. This leads well into chapter 26 if you feel like reading more.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs was angry. They all knew it. No one had said anything, but he hadn't unclenched his jaw for the past two days, and the entire team was walking on eggshells. Finally, that evening, Tony had stopped and leaned in over Ziva's desk. "So, McGee and I were talking," he'd said. "We've decided Gibbs needs an intervention."

Ziva had raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"And you've got to do it," he finished. "If Abby goes, she'll do all the talking without realizing she hasn't gotten anything out of him, and of the rest of us, he trusts you most."

Ziva hadn't answered. But when he asked her again as she left, she had shrugged. "I will try."

So she stood here now, on his doorstep. It wasn't that she didn't feel comfortable talking to him, just that usually when she confronted him, she knew what to expect. After a few minutes, she shrugged off her hesitance and let herself into the house. She could hear the sound of hammering from the basement right away, but there were no voices, so she assumed Hollis wasn't there.

He glanced up as she entered and took a seat on the landing of the stairs, her feet resting on the concrete floor, then went back to work.

After several minutes, he spoke. "I'll be fine, Ziva," he said, addressing the boat.

She cocked her head. "And why are you not fine now?"

He sighed heavily, still working away. "Hollis was in here the other day."

"After the case?"

"She found one of the tapes Kelly and Shannon sent me while I was deployed." He absently rubbed his hand across Kelly's name on the hull.

Ziva felt her own ire rising at the invasion.

"She didn't mean to," he added in her defense.

Ziva nodded once. "You two are shattered up?"

"Broken up."

She frowned. Usually she could earn a smile from Tony with that sort of mistake. Gibbs seemed impervious tonight. She watched him for awhile longer, reflecting on his relationships in the time she'd known him. "It is strange to me that you have been married so many times, Gibbs. You are not a terribly flirtatious man, certainly not compared to other men I know."

He raised his eyebrows, his tone crass. "Agent David, are you asking why I've never come on to you?"

Her eyes went wide in surprise and defense. "I was not!"

Gibbs snorted in a shadow of laughter at the look on her face, then sighed, trying to put his real response into words. "Stephanie, Diane, hell, even Jenny—they came to me. They didn't mind the silence, they...they're the kind of women who want to fix you, to heal you. And no matter what I said, they believed they could."

"So you let them try?" Ziva asked gently.

He shrugged. "The sex wasn't bad, either."

"And Hollis?" she added carefully.

Gibbs clenched his teeth, then spoke. "Ducky told her about Shannon, and it was all she wanted to talk about."

Ziva's eyes flared. She remembered how distraught he had been when Ducky himself had found out. But his eyes weren't betraying that same distress, and she didn't think he could hide it from her this well. "Did the others know? Stephanie?"

Gibbs flinched. "Most of the time that's what made them want to marry me, don't know why. Didn't tell Jenny, though. Worked with her. Couldn't tell her and not Ducky."

She studied him a moment, then spoke softly. "I know why. Not very many people are capable of love like that, love that lasts through war and death. They thought they could get it for themselves without ever stopping to realize you had given it away a long time ago."

He closed his eyes, remembering loving the way she was describing. But then he shook his head. "Maybe. But I still hurt them in the end. Stephanie...was a mess, the other day."

"And that is why you broke up with Hollis?"

He looked at her in surprise, making the connection for the first time himself. "I guess so. She'd only have gotten hurt, too." He went back to work.

Ziva remembered what she'd come for. "Then why are you so angry?"

Gibbs paused, shrugged. "She wanted..." he struggled to put it into words. "She wanted to have that part of me. The part of me that's Shannon's." He glared at Ziva. "I don't know how else to say it."

Ziva nodded. "That makes sense." She watched him a moment. "But you did care for her."

Gibbs stilled. "I thought she would be happy with what I could give her. Should have known better."

"No one wants to be their partner's second choice," Ziva said softly. Then she shrugged. "At least you didn't marry her." She flinched. She'd meant it to be comforting, but it didn't sound that way. "I mean--"

Gibbs shook his head, smiling faintly. He tilted his head back and exhaled long and slow, releasing two days of tension. "Better off on my own anyway," he finished with equanimity.

She smiled gently in reply and watched as he stretched the anger out of his shoulders and returned to work.

He worked silently for a long while, and when he looked up again, his calm restored, Ziva was gone.

*

"You fixed him!" Tony whispered excitedly the next morning as Gibbs led them all toward the elevator with only his standard gruffness.

Ziva smiled sadly at Gibbs' back. She knew she had only reminded him what he'd already known—he didn't really want to be fixed.


	44. 5x11 Tribes

**Conversations**

This chapter is for Tribes, suggested by Ashes of Fire, though I don't think I focused on the same part of the episode you were thinking of. Also, the piano component was a suggestion of suchrandomness. Thanks! Quick recap: a Muslim marine is killed near a mosque, his father refuses to have an autopsy done for religious reasons, the plot unfolds, Gibbs gives the father details so he can get the guy who killed his son, Ziva helps cover up what's happened.

(side note: I did a quick google search on Muslim funerals, and according to the internet, they don't believe in embalming. So I don't know why the Muslim family would have had a funeral home pick his body up. But I'm going to assume this is a mistake on the part of the NCIS writers and I'm going to take advantage of it to tell my story)

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs watched as Bakr's mothers and sisters chanted over his body, breaking into tears at times at the pain and loss. Bakr's father stood to the side in silence and Gibbs wondered, not for the first time since his mother's funeral, what the world would be like if men were allowed to show their grief. Bakr met his eyes and nodded, in gratitude and understanding.

"I once lost a child," Gibbs had said to him in the elevator earlier that day. "She was murdered." As rarely as he brought it up, it meant he didn't need to explain why he was holding out a slip of paper with an address on it along with the prayer beads.

When the elder Bakr looked away, Gibbs glanced around for Ziva. When he had gone home that afternoon only to return in a dark suit, Tony bluntly asked what was going on. "Going to the service," Gibbs had grunted. When he'd left later, Ziva had quietly followed him out and slid into the passenger seat of his car. She'd simply met his eyes when he glanced over, and Gibbs took in her black headscarf without a word.

Now he didn't see her anywhere in the viewing room, and as more of Bakr's family entered, he stepped out. Strains of music filtered down the hall from the other public room, vaguely middle eastern, no familiar major tones, music that spoke undeniably to loss and heartache.

Gibbs stopped in the doorway, transfixed by Ziva's slight fame sitting on the piano bench, the ends of her hair hanging down beneath her scarf.

After a moment he stepped inside and sat down on the bench beside her, watching her hands dance over the keys as she finished the piece.

She turned to him, smiling sympathetically, her fingers still resting lightly on the keys.

He nodded to her. "You didn't want to stay?"

"I offered to play," she answered. "It's a traditional Muslim piece."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you were so familiar with their culture. This morning in the mosque..."

Ziva glanced back at her hands, flexing her fingers. "Until I was twelve, my best friend was a little boy named Alim. He was Muslim. We took piano lessons together."

"Until?"

She turned to him, her eyes sad but calm. "A targeted Israeli missile strike hit his house." She shook her head at the memory. "I was distraught, angry. I knew enough about what my father did to blame him, though I was too afraid of him to say so. I was so angry that the things I believed about being Jewish had nothing to do with the war our army behaved."

Gibbs nodded in sympathy.

Ziva continued. "I wasn't too scared to complain to Ari. He said Alim's father had been Hamas." She flinched. "I yelled at him that children didn't have to be like their fathers. I wonder now what he thought of that idea."

"I doubt you, at twelve, set the course for his life," Gibbs said mildly, and Ziva smiled slightly in agreement.

"I was still angry at my father, though. I threw myself into piano." Her eyes rested on her hands. "I was very good once."

He had never heard her sound so melancholy. "You're very good now," he offered.

Ziva's eyes opened wide, her mouth an o of surprise. She quickly composed herself, looked away. "He came only once to hear me. It was nearly a year later, and I was no longer so angry, was in fact thrilled he had come."

Gibbs ached at the ending he could anticipate. "He didn't appreciate you?"

She pressed her lips together in a thin line. "He told me if I put the same effort into fighting, I could be a fine officer of the Mossad one day."

He rested his hand on her back, rubbing over the softness of her scarf. "But you don't hate your enemy."

She cocked her head, then amended his point. "It is not that, exactly. I know who my enemy is, and it is not children." She looked straight into his eyes. "And it was not anyone in the mosque today." She began to play again, picking out another melody of sadness. "It is difficult to hate someone once you know their music," she murmured over a lull.

Gibbs sighed in agreement, losing himself in the emotion of the song, the tones that evoked the same feelings in everyone in the building.


	45. 6x15 Deliverance

**Conversations**

Deliverance—I didn't actually watch this last night, but when I saw it was going to be on I started thinking about it, and this is where my mind went. Thoughts?

Also, I don't mean to disparage Gibbs' relationship with Tony at the end of this, I just thought it was a funny note to end on.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs sighed as he got up from his desk and stretched. McGee and Tony had gone down to the lab, and he wasn't sure where Ziva was. Rolling his head on his neck, Gibbs headed to the bathroom.

He jerked in surprise at the sight of Ziva perched on the counter, then grinned genuinely. "I thought you only snuck up on DiNozzo in here," he quipped, crossing to the urinal.

Ziva smiled back. "I find it unnerves men. Makes them chatty sometimes, to cover the sound." She gave him a coy look.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and unzipped defiantly, glaring at her until she looked away.

Ziva exhaled slowly, staring at the door.

He glanced over at her profile as he rezipped and flushed. Crossing to the sink, he reached for the soap. "You're not gonna ask, Ziver?" He knew they were all smart enough to figure it out, even if no one but Ducky had said anything.

She shook her head. "No. I knew he was not your son."

Gibbs' eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

She shrugged, turning to meet his eyes. "The tension—the way you carried yourself. I was trained to read people, and with enough practice I am no longer completely in the dark with you." Ziva paused, gauging his reaction. "The only time you seemed not yourself was after we heard about who his mother was," she watched him carefully, "when you heard she had died."

Gibbs looked away quickly, knowing that even that action was betraying his emotions to Ziva. "So what did you come here to ask me?" he asked shortly.

She nodded, framing the question. "When you were in Colombia—it was shortly after you lost your family?"

"Yeah, not too long." His tone was verging on irritable as she strayed into emotional territory.

"She had suffered great trauma, too." Ziva didn't rise to meet his ire.

Gibbs nodded, stricken.

Ziva pushed further. "You were not ready to love anyone then. But could you have loved her? If she had come here, if you had known she was here?"

He closed his eyes, his mouth hanging open as he searched for an answer. It was a question that he'd done everything in his power to avoid asking at the time; going anywhere near the subject had felt like adultery. He finally opened his eyes. "I have really no idea," he said simply, honestly. "I was someone else then."

Ziva looked him over frankly, then nodded, accepting his response.

"Is that all?" Gibbs asked with a touch of sarcasm, reaching for a paper towel.

She sat up straight, imperious, on the counter. "No."

Gibbs looked up, questioning.

Ziva slipped off the counter, stepped close to him to look up into Gibbs' eyes. "It...it is not too late to be a father to that boy, if you want to. If it would make you happy to have a son who was a marine, who fought and found meaning just where you always have."

He stared to her, his face more open in its pain than she had seen in years. He didn't speak.

"You have told me often, Gibbs, that I can find family here with you. If family is where you make it, go make yours with him, if that is really what you want."

Gibbs looked into Ziva's eyes, letting himself for one second imagine a second child, a son, his and Shannon's.

She glanced past him as the door creaked open and someone entered, whistling Sinatra. She looked back to Gibbs and saw that he didn't have an answer for himself, let alone one for her. To cover the moment, she smirked, eying the agent as he rolled his eyes at her and headed into a stall. "Well, you've always got Tony."


	46. 3x23 Hiatus part 1

**Conversations**

*****Rather than reorder the chapters and create chaos, I've put episode numbers in front of all the chapter titles. So if you want to know which chapter would come next, or to reread anything in order, hopefully this will help!*

There's a chapter somewhere early in this piece for Hiatus part 2, but this is separate. Enjoy...

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The team had worked without cease since the bombing, but by the next night Ziva knew she needed rest or she'd miss something. Tony dismissed them quietly as Abby showed up, car keys in hand, to drive to the hospital with him to check on Gibbs. Abby's eyes were confrontational as Ziva said goodnight, but her response was civil.

Outside her apartment, Ziva sat in her parked car, her hands on the steering wheel. She had driven recklessly fast, completely focused on traffic, but now she was still. And more stillness waited inside.

She could remember this feeling from the first few missions she'd been Ari's control officer. Knowing she'd sent him into danger, knowing exactly who he was dealing with, but having no way of protecting him or assuring that he made the right decisions—Ziva had done her job without flinching, but in the dark of the night she'd been filled with dread that she'd lose him, her throat stifled by tears she had no idea how to shed. As time went on she had grown to trust his ability to take care of himself, to release herself from the responsibility of being Ari's keeper every moment of the day. She'd begun to sleep while he was on ops. It was for the better, she'd assured herself. And all day, her distance had served her well, had let her be her most effective, even if Ducky and Abby didn't seem to see it that way.

But somehow now that feeling, that wordless, helpless fear was growing inside her again, pushing up against her diaphragm until she could hardly breathe. Ziva clenched her hands on the wheel. Her heart was racing with anxious adrenaline and she gave up on the idea of going inside. Instead she turned on the engine, raced off without pausing to question where she was going.

Ziva was at his basement door before she wondered if Gibbs would mind, and somehow the thought anchored her back to herself. She was wondering about him. She was planning for him to be alright. She let herself believe he would be, in spite of the knowledge that everyone she loved died. But she didn't descend the stairs. The basement would always be linked to death for her.

Instead she crossed the hall to the other staircase and went up, then down the dim hallway to his bedroom. On another night, in another lifetime, she had waited here, memorizing the floor plan, knowing she might shoot Gibbs before the night was over. It was hard to believe that was ever her, but Ziva didn't think about it long as she shed her pants and shirt, pulled on a t-shirt from the dresser, and slid between the sheets of Gibbs' bed.

Drowsiness hit her with force. His sheets were soft, the comforter warm and heavy, and as she pulled it over her head Ziva's whole world became saturated with the smell of Gibbs—sawdust, bourbon, his unique blend of sweat and soap. She wasn't sure if he was in that body, laying in a coma, but she knew he was here with her.

"Am I weaker now? Or stronger?" she whispered to him, nearly inaudible even to her own ears. "I tried to change because of you, for you." Her voice cracked slightly. "I don't know if I can go back." She pushed the covers down and took a deep breath.

"We need you," she whispered into the inky darkness. "I need you. Wake up." Her words broke off in a yawn, and Ziva's eyes fell closed. In a matter of hours, she woke again, but the worry had receded, replaced by a comfort that came from him whether he knew it or not.

Months later, after returning from Mexico, Gibbs would lie down in his bed and frown at a scent that reminded him of Ziva, then assume she'd slept there while hiding from NCIS and Mossad. He would smile faintly, hoping she'd slept well, but would never ask.


	47. 6x02 post Agent Afloat

**Conversations**

*****Rather than reorder the chapters and create chaos, I've put episode numbers in front of all the chapter titles. So if you want to know which chapter would come next, or to reread anything in order, hopefully this will help!*

Um, reading the NCIS wikia about Gibbs' past as I tried to figure out Gibbs' old teams for this story reminded me yet again that the show's writers have horribly convoluted his back story, past the point of me making sense of it. Also, it says on that site that Stephanie (ex-wife 4) had had a miscarriage. Is that canon? Does anyone remember which episode it's in if it is?

This follows the chapters for Judgment Day 2 and Agent Afloat; this chapter takes places immediately after Agent Afloat.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva slid into the passenger seat of the car, still smiling. Abby had met them at the airport, too excited to see Tony again to wait until the next morning. Within five minutes, she had his word he would stay nowhere else but with her until he got a new place in DC. Ziva herself had only moved out of Abby's spare bedroom a few days earlier.

Abby had hugged Ziva and Tony at once, pulling them closer together than they'd been since she'd arrived in Cartagena, and as amused as Ziva was at Abby's antics, she could feel the scruff of Tony's cheek against her forehead, felt her eyes drift slightly closed as her face pressed into his shoulder and the smell of his skin washed over her.

She'd shaken it off quickly, her response unnoticed as Abby exclaimed in turns over their tans and Tony's postcards and the things they'd missed over the summer. Even Gibbs had been smiling in the background.

Abby had taken Tony straight home with her, leaving Gibbs and Ziva with Gibbs' car, waiting in the airport garage. Now, as Ziva buckled her seat-belt, she stretched out her legs, glad to be free of the cramped airplane seat.

With a sigh, Gibbs buckled in beside her.

Ziva glanced at him. "Abby seems happy to have us back," she said demurely.

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah, sure."

She watched him a moment. "Was it really so different? With other agents? We were new to you too, once. And you already knew Lee and Langer."

Gibbs gave her a derisive look, as if that could be enough of an answer, but as he maneuvered through the parking garage, Ziva asked again. "Haven't you had other groups of agents you were close to?"

Now his expression registered surprise, and thought. "I was close to the marines in my unit. And Franks. Jenny was one of mine, and Burley. Worked closely with Pacci, Decker, a few others. Kate. Ducky, Abby."

"But you had to have _us_ back."

She was trying to push him to talk more, but Gibbs caught the undertone of awe in Ziva's voice, at the thought that she was not merely another agent to him. He turned to glance at her. "When they left, it was because they chose it. Franks retired. Jenny...moved on. Burley got promoted. Or they died."

Ziva's lips quirked. She was still unsatisfied. "You are not an effusive man." she finally said snarkily, leaning back in her seat.

Gibbs barked a quick laugh. "Tony's back, you'd better stop letting your vocabulary show."

Ziva grinned genuinely.

When silence had resumed, lulling them into sleepiness after their long trip, Gibbs spoke again. "I fought for the two of you, the three of you really, because you were taken against your will. Or at least I thought so. Because it reminded me less of Jenny and Burley leaving me than Shannon."

She nodded her understanding when he turned to meet her eyes.

"And anyway," he said to the windshield, "you all are my family now, no matter who used to be."

His tone was gruff, but he could practically feel Ziva smiling.

"You should tell Tony," she said softly, after a minute. "He's still broken."

Gibbs nodded. "You don't think he knows?" he asked, sarcasm thinly masking the serious question.

Ziva hesitated, then shook her head, staring at her lap, where her hands were pressed between her thighs. "Abby and McGee—they have good fathers. They don't have to ask for confirmation that they are cared for. I think perhaps Tony and I need more reassurance, because we do not know how to ask for it." She glanced warily at Gibbs, and he nodded.

"I'll tell him."

They lapsed into silence, which lasted until Gibbs pulled up in front of Ziva's new building. As she hefted her overnight bag and stepped out, he called after her, "You are one of mine, Ziva. I would have done a lot more to get you back."

Ziva nodded, her mouth serious but her eyes radiant. As she went inside her new apartment and showered, readied herself for bed, a smile tugged now and then at her face. She was home, and home was back to normal.


	48. 4x06 Witch Hunt

**Conversations**

A little post-Halloween sweetness for you. Enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

"What do you think bossman is smiling about?" Tony asked, glancing up to where Gibbs stood on the catwalk outside MTAC watching the floor below.

Ziva followed his gaze, then turned back to Tony with a shrug. "Are there more candy carrots?"

His eyes narrowed in confusion for a second. "Candy corn!" Tony finally squealed.

Now Ziva was confused. "When is corn orange?"

Tony grinned. "I'll see if Sarah will share." He trotted over to where Sarah and Mrs. Niles were trick-or-treating.

Ziva smiled as she watched him go, then climbed the stairs to Gibbs. She stood beside him, trying to see what he saw. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke. "She makes a very pretty princess."

Gibbs nodded once.

"In Israel we dress up for Purim. I would always be Queen Esther when I was a little girl."

He smiled faintly. "Somehow I would have expected you to be more interested in knives than gowns."

Ziva shrugged. "In our house Queen Esther wore a toga."

Gibbs chuckled under his breath.

"And anyway she was a very wise woman, in the story. She manipulated her husband into saving the Jewish people."

He smiled again at her choice of words, but Gibbs' eyes were still on the little girl in the bullpen. "Kelly was once a princess, too."

Ziva nodded sadly, unsurprised. "You thought of her often, today?" She'd seen his face while Laurie Niles listened to her kidnapped daughter on the phone.

Gibbs glanced over at her. "Yeah." He turned back to Sarah. "She was just the same age."

"Because of you, her parents get to see her grow up," Ziva offered.

He nodded. "The coffins they make for children," he murmured, "are so small."

She watched his profile, waiting for the rest.

"It's always harder to handle the possibilities when there are kids."

Ziva squeezed his forearm in sympathy briefly.

Gibbs tracked Sarah as she headed with her mother to the elevator, heading off to check on her father in the hospital. "But you're right," he agreed. "we rescued her. It's a good night."

Together they watched the elevator doors close.

"So what is it about Halloween?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs chuckled. "I remember it being the sugar. All you could eat, especially if you stashed it somewhere before you get home and your mom took it away. And getting to believe you were your favorite superhero for one day." He paused, smirking in DiNozzo's direction. "Plus once you grow up, it's an excuse for women to parade around publicly in sexy costumes once a year."

Ziva nodded, smiling. "I saw Abby."

"McGee, too," Gibbs joked, and Ziva laughed.

"He has his furry blue cheerleader, though," she pointed out.

Gibbs turned to her, incredibly perplexed. "His what?"

Ziva opened her mouth to explain and burst out laughing. Down below, Tony and McGee looked up at the sound and watched a moment until Gibbs waved them back to what they were doing.

"Should head home," Gibbs muttered. "It's late."

She nodded in reply and followed him down the stairs to where McGee and Abby were practicing tossing candy corn in Tony's mouth.

Tony saw them coming and tossed one at Ziva. She dodged in front of Gibbs to catch it in her mouth.

"Some queen," Gibbs muttered wryly.

Ziva laughed.


	49. 4x15 Friends and Lovers

**Conversations**

Another shortish, sweetish chapter, but don't be fooled, this is leading in to Cloak/Dagger chapters sometime soon. This one is for Friends and Lovers (4x15), where Ziva teaches knife-throwing and Tony reveals he once learned clogging at summer camp. The rest of the episode isn't relevant. Enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Gibbs flicked on the lights in the evidence garage and walked quickly to the bench where Abby had been working the night before. There, of course, was his cellphone. As he pocketed the thing, he heard sort grunting coming from the darkened end of the warehouse space and frowned to himself.

"Hello?" he called, walking toward the noise.

Someone turned in the dimness, and he relaxed as he recognized Ziva.

"Ziver? It's 0600."

She looked at him diffidently. "You are here, too," she pointed out.

Gibbs nodded and glanced over to see what she'd been doing. A wooden target was set up that had knives firmly embedded in all its major joints as well as its head and heart. He turned back to Ziva, raising his eyebrows.

Ziva shrugged. "We spend plenty on target practice with guns, and not enough with knives."

Gibbs looked thoughtful. "I learned to throw knives in the corps," he remarked, gazing at her targets. "Not sure they ever cover it in NCIS training."

There was a moment of disdain that Ziva couldn't quite suppress.

He grinned at her. "Officer David, you've just volunteered yourself to teach Tony and McGee to throw knives."

Ziva opened her mouth as if to protest, then thought a moment about what that would entail, and grinned. "Alright." Then she added, "Lee too?"

Gibbs frowned. "She's not on our team."

She shrugged. "She was, not too long ago." Ziva paused, hesitantly, then added, "You were gone a while. And things were...different. Tony was the leader, so Lee was McGee's probie and mine. I...got used to showing her things, for a while."

She could see the muscles in his jaw tense at the reminder that he'd left them, but before she could soften her comments, Gibbs consented with a shrug, then walked down to the target and pulled out eight knives, closing them carefully and walking back to Ziva. In silence, they thunked the knives back into the targets. Gibbs smiled in pleasure when they ran out. With a sigh, he glanced at his watch. "Better go up."

Ziva nodded and followed him.

*

Two hours later, stepping out of the elevator behind the others as they packed up to go to the crime scene, Gibbs swatted Ziva on the back of her head.

"What?" she gasped.

He glared. "I nearly lost my nose to your probie."

Ziva grinned. "Perhaps you should regrow your mustache," she rubbed a finger over her upper lip, "to shield you from harm."

He reached to smack her head again and Ziva's hand covered the back of her head first.

"Knife throwing is not the only thing I was taught in Mossad," she warning teasingly.

Gibbs shrugged. "If I thought the lunar calendar would do me any good, I'd have you teach me."

Ziva laughed and followed him to the van.


	50. 5x07 Requiem

**Conversations**

Past 400 reviews! You guys are the awesomest. Firefox tells me that isn't a word, but I defy spell check! Seriously, thanks, folks. This chapter follows Requiem 5x07, where Gibbs nearly drowns when his car goes off the pier and Tony has to save him.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm fine!" Gibbs shouted angrily as Ziva pushed the door open. When he saw her, his irritation faded. He was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, a warming blanket still draped across his legs, his heart monitor beating a little too quickly. "Jenny and the doctor won't let me leave," he said to Ziva by way of apology.

Ziva smiled sympathetically. "It is alright," she told him. "They have given me permission to take you home."

Gibbs leaned back against the pillows, satisfied by her words. "Maddie?" he asked.

She shook her head. "She sustained a slight concussion while she was held; between that and the near-drowning, they want to keep her overnight to monitor her condition."

"Tony?"

She wasn't sure but she thought his voice sounded even tenser with the second question. "They had him on oxygen for a little while, but he's been released. Abby and McGee took him home."

"Alright." Gibbs nodded. "Can you take this out?" His fingers wrapped around the IV.

Ziva gave him one of his own looks. "I'll get a nurse."

*

Twenty minutes later Gibbs was IV-free and dressed. He said a quick goodbye to Maddie and agreed to let Ziva drive him home.

They didn't talk in the car, though Ziva darted glances at him periodically, waiting for Gibbs to say something. She parked in his driveway. "Would you like me to come in?" she asked awkwardly. "Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Gibbs glared. "Don't need a nursemaid."

Now Ziva rolled her eyes and got out of the car, ignoring his protests. "It is the least I can do," she said impassively, and let herself in while he followed behind her. She rolled her eyes again at the state of Gibbs' refrigerator, but threw a couple sandwiches together as best she could. Once the food was set out on the table, she went in search of him.

To her surprise, Ziva found the basement shrouded in darkness. "Gibbs?" she called.

"Yeah." His voice sounded from the darkness, startling her.

Ziva descended quickly, sitting beside him on the third step from the bottom. "Are you alright?" she questioned softly.

Gibbs let out a ragged breath. "What's the closest you've come to dying, Ziva?" he asked softly.

Her face jerked in surprise, but he couldn't see. She answered slowly. "I was caught in a bombing once. A piece of shrapnel hit me in the head. It was several days before I woke up."

"Did you dream?" he asked, his tone serious.

Ziva shrugged. "Not that I remember."

"Hmm."

"Gibbs?"

"Do you believe in heaven?" Gibbs asked abruptly.

Ziva glanced at him, but it was too dark to make out more than the faintest outline of his head. "It is a nice idea," she said, a little stiffly. "Jews do not have much mythology about an afterlife."

"But do you think something happens after we die?"

She closed her eyes and remembered her mother, her sister. "I hope so," she whispered.

Gibbs nodded in the darkness. "Under the water...I was unconscious, inhaled water, I guess."

"Yes."

"I thought I saw Kelly and Shannon."

Ziva reached out hesitantly to rest her hand on his arm.

"They were talking to me. Kelly told me to go back."

"And you did."

He sighed. "Yeah."

"Do you think it was real?" Ziva asked delicately.

Gibbs shrugged. "I don't know, Ziver. I was never much for religion."

His voice sounded lost. Ziva wrapped her arm around his shoulders. They sat in silence a while as Ziva composed her thoughts. Finally she spoke. "You told me once that they lived in your memory," she began. "Today, either you saw them in heaven or you experienced some fabrication your mind came up with to make you fight to stay alive." She could feel the shifting of his body as Gibbs nodded. "Either way, you are alive. And that was the point."

Gibbs sighed. Ziva could tell he wasn't satisfied, that he wanted evidence one way or the other. She smiled at the thought; it was what made Gibbs Gibbs.

"There is food upstairs," she said softly.

Gibbs stood, pulling her to her feet along with him. They went and ate, and spoke of lively things.

But when Gibbs closed his eyes to sleep that night, he called up the Kelly and Shannon of his vision, still wondering if, had he thought to reach out in that moment, he might have joined them.


	51. 7x06 Outlaws and Inlaws

**Conversations**

This chapter follows Outlaws and Inlaws 7x06. It refers slightly to the chapter for Reunion. Tony actually appears in this one, but I kept us in Ziva's head so it doesn't seem too far from the normal chapters. Don't worry, it'll work its way around to Gibbs and Ziva.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Ziva sighed, dunking her sponge in the pail. The patch of floor around her was finally clean. She was pretty sure Tony had been kidding when he'd said the probie should be in charge of cleaning up Gibbs' house, but the twinkle in Gibbs' eyes told her at once he was willing to play along. At least he'd then said that since Tony had been a probie once too, he got to help out. Across the room, Tony was wiping dust off the wall. Ziva glared at his back.

She leaned back against the couch. Ziva had no real problem with the drudgery, but she hadn't been in a bed in two days and sleep deprivation was unpleasantly familiar.

"You'd better sleep," Tony said softly.

Ziva glanced up and found him watching her. She yawned. "It is alright. I...have to be the probie. Unlike your win-the-lottery plan, I have always worked hard."

"Hey," Tony crossed the room and squatted in front of her, setting his hand on her limp arm. "Lie down, Ziva. Enough hazing for one day."

Ziva watched him suspiciously but Tony seemed sincere. She pulled herself up and laid down on the couch, watching him clean for less than a minute before falling deeply asleep.

*

She woke at the sound of her name, in Tony's whisper. She opened her eyes slightly, looking up at him drowsily. "Tony?"

He was kneeling beside her. "I didn't want to startle you."

She smiled at the earnestness in his face. She'd listened that morning while he and McGee debated waking her with a prank, wondering what Tony would do if he didn't know she was awake. This was the real him. Her eyes started to drift closed again of their own accord, but he stroked her cheek and she met his eyes. He was smiling so warmly down at her.

"What?" she whispered.

Tony bit his lip, then answered softly, "You can come back from anything. That's the American Dream. You've more than earned it, don't worry about the test. And...I'm so glad you're here."

Something in Ziva felt like crying at the joy in his eyes. She nodded at his words.

Tony bent forward. For a moment, she held her breath, wondering if he'd kiss her, but instead he pressed his lips to her cheek. He pulled away and stood, still smiling.

Gibbs stepped in from the basement stairs. "Done?"

Tony mock-saluted. "Heading home, Boss. Probie here may need to stay over."

Gibbs glanced at her and nodded. "See you in the morning, DiNozzo. Don't need you there til noon."

With a nod of gratitude, Tony left.

Gibbs sat down on the couch by Ziva's knees. She shifted sleepily so he'd have more room, propping her head up against the couch pillow. "How are you?" he asked gruffly.

She shrugged. "Fine," she murmured.

"The flash-bang didn't..." He grimaced.

Ziva frowned. "Didn't what?"

"Didn't bring things back?" His tone was even but concerned.

Her eyes opened in surprise and wonder. "No." The realization took her slowly. She hadn't had a panic attack, she hadn't indiscriminately struck out at the people around her. She had responded like...herself. She smiled up at Gibbs.

"Good." He nodded in approval. "Goodnight, Ziver." He pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over her. Leaning forward, Gibbs kissed her forehead lightly, then stood.

"Goodnight." She turned onto her side and let her eyes fall shut. She could hear Gibbs cross the room and lock the door, securing her for the night, then heard him flick the light switch off. She was asleep just as quickly.

Gibbs stood a moment in the dark, remembering a night not so long ago when they'd sat in this room while she cried out her trauma. Time really could heal almost anything, he thought, glancing at one of Amira's drawings that Tony had stuck up on the wall. His eyes drifted over Ziva's form a minute longer, savoring her presence, then he headed to his own bed.


	52. 6x08 Cloak

**Conversations**

And now for something very different, at least from the warm and fuzzy chapter of yesterday. This one follows on a theme from Friends and Lovers, and is the first fight scene I've written between these two. It falls a few hours after Cloak ends. See what you think? Tomorrow's chapter, for Dagger, will resolve some of this, so never fear.

* * *

Gibbs yawned as he stepped into his house. It was past one, and he'd only just left McGee and DiNozzo monitoring Lee's house. Suddenly his senses were alert. He wasn't sure why, but he'd seen something.

As he reached for his gun, Ziva sprang suddenly out of the shadows.

Gibbs jumped. "David!" he snapped. "What do you think you're doing?"

Ziva's body was rigid with tension. "Tony said he let you know what he thought. I decided to do the same."

As Gibbs flicked the lights on, he caught sight of the anger in her eyes and felt a flicker of fear. He dismissed it quickly. This was Ziva. "You think I should have given you all the details."

"Yes!" Her voice was fierce, her posture confrontational. Gibbs felt himself straightening to match her.

"My plan has played out exactly as I'd hoped, David. What would you have done differently?" He was stern, but he waited for her to respond.

Ziva pursed her lips, processing, then snapped, "If I had known we were targeting Lee, I could have slipped her more precise information. Or if we had worked together with the agents inside, then we would not have had to fight them. We were in unnecessary danger! If you had been honest Tony would not have--"

Gibbs bristled and fought back with words. "Is that what this is about? Still harboring feelings, Ziva?"

She glared ferociously.

"No more pining for whoever it is in Tel Aviv and all the secrets you're keeping from me?" He could see her mouth opening in retort, but cut her off. "I'm not the only one hiding things here, Ziva!"

She glared. "I would never have done anything to put the team in danger. If you really thought there was live fire--"

"She was your probie!" Gibbs defended himself. "She was on your team. Never mine."

"All last summer--"

"Ziva! You would have tried to defend her. Somehow, one of you might have tipped her off and _that _would have endangered the team. It wasn't worth the risk." He tried to lower the volume of the conversation.

"How do you know?" Ziva snarled. "Where was your trust?"

"Did you suspect her?" he asked sarcastically. "No, you didn't. Who are you really angry at here, Ziva, me or you?"

"I am mad at the lies!" she shouted. "And the liars! Even after you let us in, you made us believe that _Abby_ had--"

"You didn't believe that for a second, did you?" Gibbs cut her off.

"Gibbs," Ziva began.

The next sentence came before he could stop it. "Oh, that's right, Ari screwed you up so badly you'll believe anyone is a traitor."

He could see the rage and hurt that filled her eyes, but both of them were running on adrenaline and decades of conditioning toward fight, not flight. "Are you really this hard a person, you can't see what you did wrong?" Ziva demanded.

"I don't understand why you still feel the need to debate orders you were given!" he yelled back.

Ziva shook her head in disgust. "You really are a bastard, Gibbs. Maybe Shannon's death left you incapable of any relationship where you don't have complete control. I think Ducky would back me up on that, right now."

Gibbs took three steps back to keep himself from hitting her. That he had to do so at all showed him how out of control he was, but he knew she was wrong. There had been no other choice; if any of them had betrayed even a hint to Lee, the mission would have been blown. He turned to her to explain it and saw her rage, felt his own anger rise in response. "I'm in charge, David," he snarled. "Or have you forgotten?"

She opened her mouth with another retort, but Gibbs interrupted.

"Get out of my house." His voice was hard, his eyes harder.

Ziva left without a word, slamming the door behind her with all the force in her body. As she stalked down the block to her car, she was fuming. Here he was, one of the only people in the world she could still rely on and he was keeping secrets. Served her right for trusting anyone.

Hours later, trying desperately to sleep, both ached with pain and resentment at the accusations lobbed at them and regret at the things they themselves had said in anger. But neither felt enough regret to take any of it back.


	53. 6x09 Dagger

**Conversations**

*If you haven't read chapter 52, for Cloak, this won't make nearly as much sense.* For those of you who read it before about 10 AM today, a note on the Cloak chapter: it didn't occur to me until I got a comment on it that the scene could be read as Gibbs hitting Ziva. I didn't mean for it to look like that, and I fixed the sentence to clarify. That'll teach me to write things past my bedtime. Here's something of a conclusion, though it's too soon to conclude all of it.

* * *

He stood outside her door for a few long minutes, fighting the urge to turn around and walk away, to avoid the agony of this conversation, of old wounds and new ones. They didn't have to talk about it. They could sacrifice their friendship to this fight. It seemed so much easier.

Gibbs raised his hand and knocked, committing to the act. No going back now.

Ziva met his eyes warily as she opened the door. Hers were red from crying, and any residual anger faded from Gibbs' heart.

"Ziva, I wanted to talk to you," he said calmly. He reached out a hand toward her, but she stepped back.

She shook her head once. "This is the wrong moment to ask my forgiveness." There was a flash of anger in her eyes behind the tears.

"For the other night, not for Michelle," he clarified gently. "Though I do regret what happened today. "

Ziva's eyes darted to the bedroom door, where he assumed Amanda was sleeping. Ziva had asked to take her home until the sleeping pills wore off, so the girl wouldn't be alone in a hospital when she found out about her sister. She looked back to Gibbs. He did look deeply sorry for Michelle's death.

She opened the door wider and stepped back, but said stiffly, "I am not sure I am the one to comfort you, Gibbs."

He nodded, accepting her statement. "Ziva, it won't be easy for me to tell Amanda what happened, but I had no choice about the mission today."

She glanced at him, surprised and wary, as she led him further in. "You still think you did the right thing."

He pursed his lips, unsure whether she'd rise to fight him if he defended his actions again. "At least things worked out in terms of national security," he offered. "Domino is safe, both our countries are safer."

Ziva nodded agitatedly, dismissing what he'd said, then took a deep breath. "Gibbs, I should not have said that about Shannon, but please do not try to reason with me right now. I am not in a reasonable mood." She looked at him with a hint of pleading in her eyes, and he saw how vulnerable she could still be, even after all she'd lost.

"You were close to her?" Gibbs asked gently, with a hint of surprise.

Ziva sank down on the couch. "Those months without you...we were all a little lost. Tony went a little overboard sometimes trying to be a good leader, and Michelle and McGee and I...we helped him." She smiled quickly. "We were a team. Michelle was quiet, but she'd laugh along when we pulled pranks. She was an excellent Scrabble player. She would light up whenever Palmer came in the room." Tears flooded her eyes, but she blinked them away.

"Ziva, I'm sorry," Gibbs said, aching. He broke his rule without noticing it; this apology was necessary. He sat down beside her.

She kept her eyes closed against the tears. "Did you have to kill her?" She sounded pitiful, and her wince told him she knew it but couldn't stop herself.

"She told me to."

"But--"

"Yes," he said firmly. "I'm sorry."

Ziva quickly wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, then looked toward the bedroom door. "I know how Amanda will feel tomorrow."

"You lost a sister, too."

"And a brother." Her tone wasn't harsh, but stung Gibbs a little anyway.

"I shouldn't have mentioned him."

She shrugged, turning back to him. "You were hardly wrong. I am not very trusting. But I remember always trusted Tali, when we were children." She took a breath and blew it out, quieting her emotions. Her hands twisted in her lap. "I got a call from my mother. That was how I found out. I was alone. I sat in my apartment and cried for hours before my father came and told me to pull myself together." A tear skittered down her cheek and Ziva ignored it.

"What should I tell her?" He asked softly.

Ziva looked at him, then shrugged. "That her sister loved her. Protected her. The rest of it doesn't matter as much."

Gibbs nodded, then tentatively set a hand on her shoulder. Ziva tilted forward into his arms and he rocked her gently, letting her rest against him. He couldn't tell if she was crying. As he pressed his cheek into her hair, he wondered if he really had gone too far in making her feel distrusted. Now wasn't the time to mention it, but she still had secrets from him. He just wasn't sure if his actions had convinced her she should tell him sooner or never. But at least she'd still let him offer this comfort.

Ziva sniffled as she pulled away, rubbing at her cheeks.

"I'll let you get some rest," Gibbs offered softly, and stood.

She followed him to the door, too overcome to speak. She nodded a goodnight in response to his.

As he walked away down the hall, Gibbs felt worse than before. It was always easier to live with killing someone until you saw them mourned. And yet he also felt cleaner, his cruel words forgiven. Because losing Shannon had changed him, _had _made him want to control things when he could. And he had control over this: if tomorrow he was shot instead of grazed, Ziva wouldn't remember him as hurtful. It was something.


	54. 6x13 Broken Bird

**Conversations**

This chapter builds on the moment in Broken Bird when "Mr. Pain" tells Ducky it must have been Trent Kort who revealed the tapes of their actions in Afghanistan. In the scene, Tony is shocked that Kort was involved, but we don't get to see Ziva's reaction. Also, I assume most of you reading have been following the chapters of this piece, but if you're just joining us, this one relies a little bit on conversations Gibbs and Ziva had in the chapters for Cloak and Dagger (52 and 53).

* * *

"I'll be fine, you needn't follow me," Ducky said firmly, sadly, as he stepped out of the elevator and headed toward Autopsy.

Gibbs and Ziva both hesitated, but accepted his words and remained inside as the door slid shut. Gibbs reached out and hit the button for their floor, then gave Ziva a surprised look as she pushed another button as well.

"Ziva? Case is over, time to go home."

She shrugged. "I want to go run in the gym for a while. It has been too cold and dark to run at night this week."

"A little cooler than Israel?" he teased lightly.

"Yes."

Her tone was so serious, Gibbs turned to look at her more carefully. "What's wrong?"

Ziva pursed her lips. "I wan to go run, I need to think some things through."

Gibbs didn't take his eyes off her face. They'd resolved the fight they'd had before Michelle Lee's death, but tension still lingered. "Are you upset about Ducky?" he asked tentatively.

Anger flickered in her eyes as she met Gibbs' gaze. "No," she snapped.

Gibbs felt himself bracing for a fight. "Tell me."

Ziva closed her eyes, took a calming breath. She glanced at the numbers above the elevator door. They were nearly to the bullpen.

He caught her glance and reached over, hitting a button to stop the elevator. They needed to have this out now if they were going to.

She met his gaze, irritation sweeping her features. "You wanted information about Ducky."

"Yeah."

"And you went to Trent Kort."

Ah. There it was. "Went to McGee first," he defended himself.

Ziva shrugged. "I was a spy, too, remember? I have my own contacts in the CIA if we need something, without you owing favors to a man like Kort." Her tone was bitter.

"This seemed like the quickest way," Gibbs retorted, trying to keep his voice level.

Ziva shook her head once. "I got your file once, remember? From another continent. And you didn't even ask me--"

Now Gibbs shook his head. "I don't have to ask you everything, Ziva. Or tell you everything."

She snorted. "Believe me, Gibbs, I come from a place where it is the job of those in charge to keep secrets."

The flicker of fear he saw in her eyes as she spoke told Gibbs everything. This had nothing to do with Trent Kort. "Are you waiting for me to call you on the secrets _you're_ keeping?" he asked quietly.

Ziva's eyes went wide. "No," she whispered.

He leaned back against the wall, fighting the instinct to slip into one of his interrogative postures. "Ziva, you know I would always help you."

She nodded slowly, looking away.

"If you don't share what you know with me, why should I share what I know with you?" He studied her fiercely, his silence demanding an answer.

Ziva finally looked up and gave one. Her anger had vanished. "I have orders," she said softly. "I am—not allowed."

Now his eyes flared with anger, as he realized the one thing that would keep Ziva from relying on him. He said, as gently as he could, "Ziver, one more act of obedience isn't going to earn you your father's love."

She jerked back as if slapped, pressing against the wall opposite him. She seemed suddenly bereft, but when she spoke her voice was even. "Gibbs, it is not relevant to NCIS. I swear." Her eyes pleaded with him to believe her, so he nodded.

"Alright, Ziver. Though if you need help..."

She smiled tightly in acceptance.

"But I'm not apologizing for calling Kort," he emphasized. "I don't answer to you here. What we do here is about the job, about getting it done, not about trust or love or anybody's feelings." He stared her down until she nodded. Then he turned back toward the doors, leaning over to set the elevator in motion again.

He heard Ziva sigh gently as she stood beside him, but she didn't speak until they stepped out into the bullpen. Even then, he wasn't sure whether she'd meant for him to hear the words she said under her breath

"We can't do any of this without trust."

Gibbs turned to reply, but Ziva had headed in the opposite direction, was hailing Abby at the far end of the hall. He stared after her, knowing she was right and wondering how far their relationship had slipped when his first instinct was to go to Kort instead of her.


	55. 7x07 Endgame

**Conversations**

Hey, folks! Sorry it's been a few days, I'm waiting for Netflix to deliver me the rest of season 6 to watch and write about. Though after that we'll see what's left. This chapter is based on Tuesday's episode, Endgame, and Ziva's bitchiness after Tony got into Tim's motivational CD kit. I would say this happens between that scene and the bathroom scene with her and Tony. Read on...

* * *

Gibbs stood in the doorway of the breakroom, watching Ziva stretching in the corner. She'd been doing this frequently since her return, and even more often since the temperature had dropped. He usually tried not to hover, but today he could tell from the tension in her face that she was dealing with more than aching muscles.

She threw a few practice punches.

"Feeling motivated to hit someone?" Gibbs asked lightly, leaning against the door frame.

Ziva smiled at him, dropping her hands and shrugging her shoulders up and down in circles as she turned to him. Then she rolled her eyes. "I cannot imagine how anyone would be motivated by that program."

Gibbs frowned at her. "If McGee likes it, what's wrong with it?"

She straightened. "The whole idea is that you cannot change, that you may make choices but who you are born is who you will be."

He shrugged. "It's just a CD, Ziva."

Ziva pursed her lips, irritated. "Tony kept calling me an assassin today."

Gibbs nodded, understanding her objection. "You believe you can change yourself."

"Change is hard, but it can be done, Gibbs! You showed me that, when I was new here."

He smiled. "I remember."

She looked away, self-conscious of her next question. "Do you think Tony believes it? The CD?"

"I don't think Tony thinks that hard about what he believes unless the situation _forces_ him to," Gibbs answered drily. "I think he decided to entertain himself by playing with McGee's toys."

Ziva nodded thoughtfully.

Gibbs studied her. "Do you really care what Tony thinks of you?"

She blushed, still staring off at the wall.

"Ziva?" he asked worriedly.

"In Africa," she said softly, "he said...he said he couldn't live without me." She looked up nervously at Gibbs, waiting for his response.

"He killed Rivkin," Gibbs pointed out rather harshly.

She flinched at his tone and at the memory.

"You really think you could still have real feelings for Tony?"

Ziva took a deep breath. "Gibbs...this summer. What happened. Have you ever traveled somewhere, in a day, and by the time you get there you feel so far from where you started that it seems almost like a dream, even though you never slept?"

He shrugged, accepting the idea.

"My life before Somalia," she continued, "it doesn't feel real, not like today. And I no longer blame Tony for the events of last spring. So...perhaps. Perhaps I can have feelings for him." She looked away, whispered, "either way, I cannot quite imagine having feelings for anyone else."

Gibbs hesitated, unsure if encouraging her would lead to anything good. But secrets never did. "He lost it when we thought you'd died," he said abruptly.

Her eyes snapped to him.

"We all grieved, Ziva, we all missed you. But McGee, Abby...even me. We kept going. Tony couldn't."

She was hanging on his words. "So you think he does believe I can change?"

He shook his head, rolling his eyes at the both of them, "I think he loves you whether you change or not."

"He doesn't care if I am like Kai?" she asked urgently.

Gibbs shook his head gently. "You're nothing like Kai."

Ziva grimaced. "Pretty ladies and assassins, I believe Tony said. It is true." She looked sad as she stopped speaking.

"Look at me, Ziva," Gibbs said firmly. "I made the point to Ducky that Kai had no family, had never been loved or loved anyone herself. Now, I can't say I'd want your family, but you at least had a mother and a brother and a sister who loved you. And I've seen you myself. You connect to people. You connect to me." He looked away. "So stop it," he finished gruffly.

She smiled.

"And don't forget the rules!" he shook finger in her face for emphasis, but when she kept smiling, he let his face relax in feigned anger and waved her past him back to the bullpen. He watched her walk, saw Tony stand from his desk in excitement as he noted her approach. Gibbs stopped before Tony could see him, watching the two agents greet one another in their elaborate dance. HE couldn't help a flicker of sadness. If these two could come back from so much, perhaps he and Jenny shouldn't have given up so easily.


	56. 6x18 Knockout

**Conversations**

This chapter happens during Knockout 6x18, as Ziva, Vance and McGee head back to DC. It follows on themes from the other season 6 chapters I've posted in the last week, but reading them isn't as critical to understanding this chapter as having seen the episode is.

Also, I'm not really a fan of JIBBS, but elements of it keeping making their way in because I think that's what certain situations would make Gibbs think of. Just saying.

* * *

Gibbs frowned as he left autopsy. When he added Abby's information to Ducky's questions about the victim's lack of a military background, he came up worried. Turning away from the elevator, he walked briskly down the hall to the stairs, flipping open his phone as he went.

"David," Ziva answered crisply.

"Hey," he answered. "Can you talk?"

Ziva paused at the other end, glancing up at Vance and McGee where the men sat debating something to do with computers while they waited for their flight back to DC. "Sure," she answered, standing and walking to the plate glass window as if she were just stretching her legs.

"I just talked to Ducky," Gibbs told her. "There seems to be some question about this case being in our jurisdiction at all."

Ziva waited for a question, not sure if she should tell him how she'd been ordered to sedate and stow a man while Vance took in a hooker.

"Does this case seem legitimate to you?" he asked.

A smile crossed her face. "You didn't get the whole story out of Abby?"

Gibbs smirked. "Got the parts she knows. The parts about evidence. Still wondering about the parts about subterfuge."

"I do not know the details, Gibbs," Ziva answered honestly. "He has been friendly but obscure. He has known these people a long time, but the origins of his relationships with them are not clear." She turned slowly to glance at Vance. He certainly seemed relaxed and engaged talking with McGee, but there were plenty of people in the spy game who were good at keeping secrets. Secrets. She realized the connection. "You are thinking of Jenny," Ziva said softly.

Gibbs' breath caught, just enough that she could hear. "Yeah," he said, exhaling slowly. "At least we both knew her well enough to know when something was wrong."

Ziva nodded in agreement, then answered aloud. "And Jenny trusted us. I do not know who Vance trusts."

"And even then, she..." he trailed off, remembering.

_She what?_ Ziva wanted to ask. _She kept her father's death a secret, and then her own? She put our people undercover secretly?_ She knew it was still too soon to revisit those moments.

"She used the agency for her own purposes," Gibbs finished his own thought.

"Perhaps you should ask him his intentions yourself," Ziva said softly, still watching the man in question.

"The direct approach?" Gibbs asked wryly.

Ziva chuckled. "Why not?"

"Alright," he said, resolved. He paused before adding, "Is there anything else I should know?"

She held her breath. He'd given her moments like this periodically since they'd talked about Kort. If she let herself answer, it would all pour out. Rivkin wasn't who she'd thought he was. Her fathers orders seemed less and less reasonable. Mossad was operating on American soil without license. Her mouth was full of the words.

"Okay, then, Ziver," Gibbs said slowly. He snapped his phone closed, worry flashing in his eyes as he headed out of the stairwell and into the bullpen.


	57. 6x20 Dead Reckoning

**Conversations**

A chapter during Dead Reckoning 6x20, just after Ziva's amazing one-woman-gun-show. It's hard because my instinct is to force them apart with all this Rivkin stuff, but at the same time the chapters I've already written post-Aliyah have Ziva and Gibbs reuniting and close pretty quickly. Of course, not all the season 6 chapters are doom and gloom. You can go back and read the ones for Deliverance and Bounce if you want a pick-me-up after reading this one. Also, I'm running out of episodes to write on. But I have a TIVA series in the works for season 7...

* * *

Gibbs seethed, annoyance quickly replacing worry. He hit the call back button on his phone and waited for her answer.

"David."

"What was that?" he demanded.

"There was a situation. The Marshals have picked up the accountant; Tony is on the phone arranging for someone to get the bodies."

"Bodies?" he was even more agitated now.

"Two men were approaching," she answered in clipped, clinical tones. "Toward either entrance. I placed myself between them and shot them as they entered."

He couldn't help feeling a little proud, but worry overcame him. "With no cover? Where was Tony?"

"Protecting the target," she said simply.

"Well, that's a good job then," Gibbs said slowly, trying to calm his heart.

She smiled, remembering Tony's similar comment. "I am Mossad," Ziva said quickly, proudly. Instantly she regretted the words.

"You are, aren't you," Gibbs answered coldly.

She knew him well enough to know he was not angry but hurt, disappointed. The failure to live up to the person he wanted her to be stabbed through her, as bad or worse as when she had faced the same realization about Eli David so many years ago. "Gibbs," she began, conciliatory, but wasn't sure what else to say.

"Well, here at NCIS we don't go in for one-man heroics quite so much; we rely on each other," he said harshly. "Where would the others have been if you'd been taken down?"

"I called you for backup!" Ziva defended herself. "If we needed it." She was hurt now, too, and could not help sounding petulant as she added, "Though how are we a team when you did not tell us the whole story about Kort?"

Gibbs grimaced. "Figured you could figure it out!"

Ziva opened her mouth with another retort, but looked up to see Tony watching her, a question in his eyes. "We are headed back," she snapped, and closed her phone. She gestured for Tony to lead the way back to their vehicle.

Separate, silent, Gibbs and Ziva ached with the strain they'd put on their relationship. But the only other option was for her to tell him the one thing she'd been ordered not to, and so for now there was no way back.


	58. 6x06 Murder 20

**Conversations**

And now a quick foray back to earlier in Season 6, Murder 2.0 at suchrandomness' suggestion, while I wait for disc 6 to arrive! A little lightness is well deserved after the last couple chapters, I think. Quick reminder: this was last year's Halloween episode, in which youtube clues (ok, not youtube, but basically youtube) lead the team to the killer. And along the way this blond chick Rose throws herself at Gibbs. ...Wait, is this a Doctor Who fic?

* * *

Ziva frowned to herself, squinting at her work.

"So is he single?" Rose asked from above her.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I am trying to focus on what I am doing," she muttered, delicately untangling the wires that connected the bricks of C4 around Rose's waist from the signal device. McGee and DiNozzo had already taken Tommy in, but she was stuck here while Gibbs gathered evidence until she got the bomb disengaged and neutralized.

"He seems really mature," Rose sighed.

Ziva paused a moment, closing her eyes, fighting the urge to scream.

Rose sighed again, clearly getting irritated at the lack of attention. "I guess you want him for yourself, huh?"

At this, Ziva laughed aloud, then flinched at the way the sound resonated in the rehearsal space. Gibbs glanced over and she looked away, hoping he hadn't heard and been offended by her reaction. "He is my boss," she said firmly. "But he is not available." She felt no guilt about the lie; she was sure Gibbs had no interest in this girl.

"Right," Rose said gloomily.

Ziva braced herself as she cut the last wire, but no explosion came, and she eased the bomb away from Rose. "Step back slowly," she instructed the girl, and seconds later Rose was free and the bomb was secured.

Rose stretched luxuriously in Gibbs' direction, making Ziva roll her eyes again. "Finished," she called out to Gibbs.

He headed over to them. "Come in in the morning and McGee can take your statement," he said gruffly to Rose.

"You don't want to do it yourself?"

Ziva was sure Gibbs caught her disdainful expression because he smirked at her slightly.

"Have a good evening, Miss," he said carefully, and jerked a thumb at Ziva, leading her out of the garage and to the car.

Ziva suppressed her snickers until they were halfway down the block.

"What?" Gibbs demanded.

"Did you see her? _You don't want to do me yourself_?" she mimicked.

"Is is so unreasonable that a woman would find me attractive?" Now he did sound a little insulted, but the light in his eyes told Ziva it was all banter.

"So you _are_ interested in younger women?" she teased, a hint of laughter in her tone to assure him she wasn't coming on to him.

"Shannon was actually three months older than I was," he said lightly. "And everyone else I've been involved with has brought a world of trouble, so I'd have to say no."

"You know, Abby's expressed an interest in older men from time to time." She was still teasing, but she watched him carefully.

Gibbs looked back at her skeptically. "Believe me when I say that could never end well." His tone was dry and humorous.

Ziva laughed.

Gibbs chuckled along, then added, "You shoulda seen the look on DiNozzo's face when she started flirting with me and not him. Thought he'd have an aneurism."

She was still giggling. "Serves him right," she said.

"That's right," Gibbs answered, "I wasn't the only one sexually harassed today."

Ziva shrugged, smiling. "They are only photos. But Tony goaded me. And it is entertaining to watch McGee squirm." She gave him a look of sweetly malicious delight.

"Well, I wouldn't waste your time making him delete them," Gibbs assured her, still playful.

"No?" Ziva was cautious, waiting for the punchline.

"Not when we know Tony has them preserved in hard copy for all eternity."

Ziva nodded thoughtfully. "Mm."

"Mmm?" Gibbs queried.

She shrugged again, voice quivering with amusement. "Perhaps I _will_ have to shave his eyeballs."


	59. 4x03 Singled Out

**Conversations**

This isn't actually about the episode, but is based on this line from Tony to Jenny: _His memory is still shaky. Yesterday he called Ziva "Kate."_

* * *

Ziva froze, her eyes locked on Gibbs. She heard Tony's breath catch, or maybe McGee's, and remembered to breathe herself. Gasping, she turned toward them, saw their eyes equally wide, darting between her and their boss.

"Well don't just stand there, get on it!" Gibbs said, more excited than exasperated for once.

Tony gave her a quick nod, and with a hint of guilt, Ziva followed his lead as she had all summer. As Gibbs had instructed, she got back to her background check on the suspect while McGee and Tony headed downstairs to check in with Abby.

_Kate_. The name rang in her ears. How many times in the past year and a half had she wondered if he might rather have the other agent in her place, might prefer someone more American, more investigative, _better_... Ziva had no doubt she was effective at her job, but she knew, too, that she was not a replacement, could never fill Kate's role on the team or in Gibbs' mind.

_Kate_. She knew people in comas sometimes woke with their once-clear memories amalgamated, the borders between one point in time and the next no long so distinct. But if this was the reality his subconscious had concocted, what did that mean for her?

"Ziva."

She turned at the sound of her name, looking up in relief.

"What are you doing?" he sounded a little put out.

"Gibbs?" she asked hesitantly.

"You stopped typing."

Ziva looked down at her hands to find it was true.

"What is it?" now he sounded worried.

She looked back at him, pursing her lips nervously. "Just a minute ago—you called me 'Kate,'" she spluttered.

Now Gibbs' eyes were wide. He gave a single nod. "Walk with me," he said, glancing around.

Ziva stood, wondering what he meant to do, and followed Gibbs down the stairs and out the front door of the building. When they were safely outside, headed toward the coffee stand, Gibbs spoke.

"I know who you are, Ziva." He didn't miss the slight relaxation of her shoulders.

"Well, I hardly recognize you with that mustache," she replied lightly.

Gibbs broke into an uncharacteristic grin. It quickly faded, as he grabbed her elbow and pulled her to a stop.

Ziva looked up at him. "Gibbs?"

"I..." His voice trailed off. "I still have flashes of them, Ziva."

"Shannon and Kelly?" she asked gently.

He shrugged. "And Kate. My mother. Jenny the way she used to be. But yeah, mostly them."

She rubbed his shoulder awkwardly with her free hand. "You know it is not real, though?"

"Yeah." The pain had not left his voice. "It's hard being back in the house." He picked up on the pity in her eyes and pulled away abruptly, beginning to walk again.

"Do you miss her so much?" Ziva felt pathetic even as she said the words, but she couldn't keep them in.

Gibbs stopped and turned to her in surprise, suddenly fully processing what he had done and remembering the guilt Ziva had spent her first year at NCIS wallowing in, her feelings of responsibility for Kate's death. He hugged her suddenly against him, and she went willingly. "Only when I forget she's dead," he said honestly, softly into her hair. "But I know what's real, I know what I've got." He leaned back to see her face. "And I spent plenty of time in Mexico lost in my memories. I wouldn't have come back if they were better than being here with all of you. Got that?"

Ziva nodded. Gibbs wondered if her eyes were shining more than normal or glinting in the sun. "Come on," he said, tugging on her arm again. "I never once forgot I like coffee."

Smiling, comforted, Ziva let herself be led. She glanced up at him, rolling her eyes at what she saw there. "You did, it seems, forget to shave," she muttered under her breath.

Gibbs just laughed, and, relaxed now, Ziva joined him.


	60. 6x23 Legend

**Conversations**

-- Finally some resolution to the many chapters of fighting and secrecy! (Though, of course, more tension and resolution for Semper Fidelis and Aliyah are forthcoming) In Legend the writers were hopelessly bad at paying attention to what time it was when shifting between scenes and timezones, so I've chosen to have it be whatever time of day I say in this story. So there!

-- 60 chapters, 50,000+ words, 500 reviews? My love to the 20 or so of you who review regularly and make wonderful suggestions, but if the traffic numbers are accurate only about 2% of you, dear readers, ever take the time. And wouldn't you please? It would totally make my day!

* * *

Gibbs stepped into his house, reaching for the light-switch. He'd slept on the plane to avoid jetlag, but somehow it was midnight and he'd already had a good night's rest. A creak from below him made him smile grimly. _We'll talk about this more later_, he'd said to Ziva. He was glad she'd taken him seriously.

Setting his bag down, he crossed the top of the staircase and headed down the stairs, glancing in to check she hadn't picked up any of his tools.

To his surprise he found Tony, caught with a bottle halfway to his lips and his eyes round with surprise.

"Boss!" Tony said, a little too loudly.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows as he reached the bottom step. "Drunk, DiNozzo?" He didn't let his face betray his surprise.

Tony put down the bottle but shook his head. "Not too bad."

Gibbs let his face linger in a questioning expression. "Well?" he finally snapped.

Tony looked down at the bottle, took a deep breath.

Gibbs' gut sank. "Spit it out," he said gently.

His agent raised his eyes. "Something's going on with Ziva, Boss. She wouldn't tell me, but she said she'd tell you, so..."

He nodded, trying to seem calm. "You think I should interrogate Ziva?"

"No!" Tony leapt to her defense. "But...Boss, it's Ziva."

Gibbs cocked his head, thinking, as he took the bottle from Tony and swallowed twice. He remembered how close these two had been, once. He remembered what it felt like when the woman he wanted had been slipping away. "Go home, Tony," he said firmly, meeting the younger man's eyes. "I'll handle it."

Tony's eyes were filled with relief as he sighed and headed up the stairs. "Thank you, Boss. 'Night, Boss."

Gibbs waved him out and sat down in the boat, wondering where she could be.

*

The alcohol did little to tire him, and Gibbs worked on the boat until late in the night. Finally he heard the faint sound of a step in the room above him and relaxed for the first time all night.

He greeted her without turning from his work. "Been waiting for you. Tony was here earlier, questioning me about your loyalty."

"What?" she sounded outraged.

Gibbs shrugged, still sanding. "Hey, when he was involved with Jeanne Benoit, you asked about him." He heard her take a step closer to him.

"Do you think I am disloyal?" she asked softly, fearfully.

Now Gibbs put down the tool and turned quickly, setting his hands on her shoulders. "I told Macy today that I would trust you with my life, Ziva. And I would. I do. But I need you to talk to me." He watched her look away, his heart clenching as it had when Rivkin had said her name, when she'd named him in turn. He hoped everything he'd shared with her meant enough for them to survive this moment.

Ziva bowed her head, trying to find the right words. She had felt like crying with relief as she'd told Tony she'd talk to Gibbs, relief that even though the circumstances had grown extreme, she was finally ready to unburden herself, finally had no other choice and could do what she'd wanted to all along. This was the moment. She had to say it now, had to explain.

"Have you ever let feelings cloud your judgment?" she asked huskily, lifting her eyes to Gibbs'.

"For your father?" Gibbs asked gently.

Ziva shook her head no, her hair falling around her face. "For Michael," she said, struggling to get the words out through the shame that tried to close her throat.

She looked bereft at the admission, and the unfiltered emotion on her face made Ziva seem suddenly young to Gibbs. "Love is a powerful thing," he admitted. He lifted a hand in sympathy and stroked her hair, noticed the tangles. It had been a long time since he'd slept with a curly-haired woman, but he knew it wasn't windy and there was no question in his mind why she hadn't been waiting up for him earlier.

Ziva read the knowledge in his eyes, the sudden flash of judgment, and continued. "He told me what you said. That I work for you." She met his eyes, her voice clear. "I do, Gibbs. I did not know the details of what Michael was doing. My father ordered me to keep his presence to myself, and I did not see the harm." Her tongue fumbled over the words. "I am sorry."

Gibbs smiled reflexively as the familiar response sprang to his lips, but he waved her to silence. "Good," he said, picking up a tool.

Ziva felt like crying. That one word was forgiveness, acceptance, love. For the first time in a year she had no secrets from him, and it was an amazing relief.

He turned to look at her. "Take a seat, I have some questions."

She nodded willingly, curling up in the bottom of the boat to watch him.

Gibbs passed her the bottle with a smile, and they got to work.


	61. 6x24 Semper Fidelis

**Conversations**

501! You guys are awesome :) Another guest appearance in this chapter, from Fornell! This guy deserves more fanfiction action than he gets.

* * *

"You coming?" Fornell asked with his usual brusqueness.

"Where?" Gibbs snapped in the same tone.

"To smooth things over with Julia." He had the good grace to look chagrined at Gibbs' incredulity. "Like I said, warm burrito."

"I take it you're hungry?" Gibbs quipped.

Fornell rolled his eyes. "Come on.'

Gibbs waved him away. "Go pull her in the conference room. I'll be along."

Fornell nodded and headed down the hall.

Gibbs looked down the hall and across the bullpen. Ziva was working, pausing every few seconds to glance surreptitiously at Tony. He sighed, wondering how long it would take those two to recover. "Ziver," he called softly. He signaled her over. "I need to talk to you."

With one more glance at Tony, she rose from her desk and joined him. Gibbs steered her around the stairs.

"Yes?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs pursed his lips, worried they didn't have enough privacy here.

Ziva read his stance and stiffed, crossing her arms. "What is it?"

He answered softly, "The case it closed. For NCIS' purposes, it was Tabul. I'm not pursuing this further. That's fine for now. But I don't think that's what happened."

"Well, what else?"

He could read her nervousness in the way her eyes scanned quickly around their area.

"Tabul was the leader of the cell Rivkin tracked for months. He had to know him. It seems to me he had the chance to do this and cover it up by killing Tabul."

Ziva leapt to the defensive, keeping her voice to a hiss. "What possible motive could he have had? An attack on any of the men in that room would have brought down incredible American hostility on Israel."

"They were discussing policy with regard to Israel. That bug..."

She shut up at once, her nostrils flaring as Ziva considered the ramifications. After a moment's thought, she seemed to relax and shook her head. "Gibbs, it cannot be!" She flushed. "Regardless of the subject matter, he was in bed with me last night."

He tried to offer the truth gently. "Except when you came to see me."

Realization flooded her eyes, then sadness, then anger. She nodded once and looked away. "He duped me," she said, grief in her tone. "He called me for lunch...tried to get me to talk about the case." She squeezed her eyes shut, as if by wishing she could make the world a place where no one she loved ever took advantage of her. She opened them and looked up at him. "What do you want me to do?"

Gibbs knew what he wanted. He wanted to kill Rivkin with his bare hands. He wanted her to recognize Rivkin's treachery and do it herself. But Ziva had already killed one man she loved for him, and he wouldn't ask her to do it again.

"Get him gone," he said simply, trying to keep the anger from his voice. "Make him go back to Israel. He'll listen to you?"

Ziva took a deep breath. "Mossad will make him if I ask."

He nodded, studying her. She looked determined, but still sad. "Hang in there, Ziver," he said softly. "You've still got me, McGee, Abby. And Tony. No matter what."

He saw Fornell turn the corner so he quickly sent Ziva back to her desk. He bit the bullet and apologized to Foster-Yates for Fornell's sake. And then he did something that he would blame himself for every day afterward, every time he saw her empty desk or, later, the scars criss-crossing Ziva's skin: he gave in to his remaining rage and encouraged Tony to get involved.


	62. 6x25 Aliyah

**Conversations**

This relies heavily on the ending of chapter 61. I'd read it if you haven't. This chapter also references some dialogue that's not from the episode but from chapter 22 of this story, which is Aliyah from Gibbs' perspective. You don't have to read it first, but I'd read it afterward either way to fill in the gaps. Oh man guys, writing this one made me cry. Hope you like it. (But if it makes you sad, keep reading them chronologically through the season 7 ones, because it cheered me up to remember that things worked out.)

* * *

Ziva finished her exchange with Hadar and drove home, still focused on her conversation with Gibbs an hour before.

_You've still got me, McGee, Abby. And Tony. No matter what._

She was tired and stressed and anxious—but beneath that there was joy tickling at her spirits, a tingling awareness of the first unqualified love she'd known since childhood. She could feel hope beckoning beyond the next few days. Hadar would get Rivkin out of the way, there would certainly be questions for her from Tel Aviv, and then it would end and she would still be here, would still have them. _No matter what._

She stopped at a light a few blocks from her building and let the reality of the moment register. She had family here, could be a person who relied on others. That woman she had been four years ago, a woman who protected herself from every other living person and even some dead ones, was falling away. She had been put in the same situation she had been in with Ari but this time she had not had to face it alone, had had advice, support. The new Ziva felt buoyant, lightened without the burden of distrust.

Ziva reached her block and saw that Tony's car was outside her apartment. For an instant it seemed she had already reached that brighter future, that it was waiting with him upstairs. But the knowledge that Michael was there too returned just as quickly and she left her car, ran inside.

The sight of them sprawled across her living room made her worry for both of them, made her rush to Michael's side.

But first it ripped away in an instant every shred of security, of hope, of peace, that she had ever achieved, leaving Ziva with a depth of loss that she had never experienced in her life.

"Ziva, I am sorry," Michael gasped as she reached him, and she turned to Tony, screaming for an ambulance. When he finished the call, she looked up from Michael's unconscious form, hoping against hope that she might get the same apology from Tony, but his eyes were hard and she looked away.

*

The hospital was a blur, grief already consuming her. Ziva let herself believe it was for Michael. She was hostile even to Gibbs, she was so deeply hurt. She should have known better, Ziva told herself. She should never have trusted anyone, not Ari, not Rivkin, not Tony—no one. _No one_.

She went at the first opportunity to see the body, not because she was not angry at him but because he apologized. Whatever he might have done, he was not beyond conscience. And she would almost rather be there on the table in his place than live with the knowledge of her foolishness.

The anger and pain propelled her onward, fighting back sympathy and pursuing answers.

And then, in Tel Aviv, on the stairs outside a building whose halls she had run since childhood, Gibbs stopped her, and Ziva spat out the ugly truth of her life: _I was betrayed._

And he told her she should stay.

She had thought it could not get worse, but for a second it was.

He hadn't finished. Before she could turn and leave, Gibbs added, "But I love you, and I don't want to see you leave."

It was such sudden comfort, a glimpse of a fantasy it seemed she had once had, that tears flooded Ziva's eyes. She blinked rapidly to keep them from falling, swallowed hard. One slid down her cheek and Gibbs lifted his hand to wipe it away but she pulled back.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright and glistening and heartbreaking and told him a truth that was at once the bright point of her existence and proof of the ruin she had become. "You are the only one left I love."

*

There was enough anger left for her to be hostile to Tony on the roof, anger that he tried to help, that she had relied on him, that she had been weak enough to rely on anyone. Enough too to confront her father, hoping that he would answer her questions, would fire her, hoping for a way out.

There wasn't one. Gibbs kissed her cheek on the runway, an intimacy she knew would probably be the last of her life. Ziva shrank from it, remembering all the nights in his basement, the stolen moments of friendship, the words of concern or condolence. He knew her better than anyone, and he was saying goodbye. She stood watching the plane leave and tried, as she always had, not to cry while her father was watching.


	63. 4x02 Escaped

**Conversations**

This picks up right after the scene at the end of Escaped where Jenny tells Gibbs that she doesn't know if it's a good idea for him to come back, but he's so good at what he does that he shouldn't quit. Then in the next episode, we see he's back.

* * *

Ziva tapped her fingers on the steering wheel uncertainly. She had pulled up just in time to see Jenny enter Gibbs' house. That was fifteen minutes ago. It was seeming more and more possible that Gibbs' return had sparked something between the two of them, and as their friend she found herself wondering if it could really be a good idea. They were hardly the people they'd been a decade ago. She sighed with relief when Jenny left the house again, hesitating at the door trying to decide whether or not to lock it behind her before leaving.

A minute later, she drove away, and Ziva stepped out of her own vehicle. She was glad to find Jenny had left the door open in the end.

"I haven't made up my mind, yet, Jen!" Gibbs snapped as she reached the basement door.

"It's me," Ziva called softly.

"Oh," Gibbs said, his tone still harsh. "Lot of visitors tonight."

Ziva raised her eyebrows as she descended. "Made up your mind about what?"

He sighed, not answering. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I did not want to miss another chance to see you on."

"Off." Gibbs turned to face her, his expression softening. "I regretted leaving like that, afterward. When I remembered all of you, more completely—at the time, you'd only been more than strangers for an hour or two."

Ziva nodded acceptance. "And now?"

He rubbed an itch on his forehead, smearing dust from his hands. "It might be even harder to say goodbye, but I'll try to do it."

She looked around the room; it was no more packed than when she'd stayed down here a week earlier. "What have you not made up your mind about?" she pressed.

Gibbs sighed, took a drink. "Jenny wants me to stay," he admitted.

Ziva couldn't suppress the smile that flashed across her face, but it quickly faded. "You have not made up your mind?"

He met her eyes, hearing the sadness in her voice. "You think I should?" He leaned back against the work bench.

She nodded at once. "With...when you were gone." She stopped. "We worked hard, together. Tony did his best. And he was not a bad leader," she defended him, "but..." she paused, trying to put the words together. Gibbs waited. "In our team, we all look up to you. We respect Tony, but he is not our leader in the same way." She spoke carefully, trying to make her point.

He played devil's advocate. "He might me, in time."

Ziva shook her head. "Perhaps he could lead another team. But me and McGee...he will never be 'Boss' to us."

Gibbs smiled at the term.

"And you always will," she added firmly.

He studied her face. She was right about this; being with Franks had been fun, but he had lost the part of himself that was a leader in those months. Instead of having these people around him, his extra hands and minds, he was just himself, adrift. Staring at her, Gibbs was reminded how much it meant to have that. "Alright," he finally said.

"Alright?" Ziva questioned, eager but not wanting to take anything for granted.

"I'll tell Jenny in the morning that I'm staying."

She smiled again, and this time it lasted, though it flickered as she asked, "And Tony?"

Gibbs frowned. He hadn't thought of that. "Jen might give him another team."

Her eyes were sad again, but Ziva said only, "He is capable enough for that."

"But you want us all back together," Gibbs said wonderingly as he realized what her expression meant.

Ziva tensed. "Is that so surprising?" she asked nervously.

He smiled faintly. "I forgot that of all of us, you've had the least stability in your life."

She stiffened. "It is true that I have not stayed as long anywhere as here, this year, in a long time."

Gibbs set his hands on her shoulders as he spoke. "Well it's up to Jenny, but as far as I'm concerned, it's time to get back to normal."

Her arms were around his neck at once, surprising him. As he hugged her back he couldn't remember Ziva ever initiating such contact before. Gibbs smiled into her hair. He was just as glad to be home.


	64. 4x24 Angel of Death

**Conversations**

I put Angel of Death up there, but really this is for Bury Your Dead. Remember how in Bury Your Dead Jenny gets Abby to come in and Gibbs gets McGee to come in and Tony is with Jeanne and Ziva is with Ducky? It struck me that no one so much as calling her would be something Ziva would object to. And after all these chapters with Ziva and Gibbs fighting I wanted to show how when there's not a big secret lurking around stirring up trouble, they don't really fight. This will make more sense if you've read Chapter 13, about Trojan Horse.

* * *

Ziva took a deep breath as she rode the elevator up to the bullpen, trying to calm herself. Tony would be there, at his desk, spending Saturday morning catching up on paperwork or playing internet games while Gibbs wasn't around. Or something. He was alright. She tried to believe it. It didn't help that her head was still aching from last night's tequila with Ducky.

But instead of Tony, it was McGee who was already at the office, and she could feel her concern mounting. How was it that no one else was worried about Tony?

She met Gibbs' eyes confrontationally when she realized he'd been there all night, too. As soon as McGee went to the bathroom to avoid the tension, she turned to Gibbs, demanding an answer.

"You didn't call me? You were here all night--"

Gibbs shrugged. "Can you hack the CIA?"

Ziva glared. "I know people at the CIA."

He shook his head. "Too many alarm bells if you do that."

"You could at least have let me know!" she snapped.

Gibbs cocked his head, studying her. "You're really that worried about DiNozzo?" There was concern in his voice, too.

Ziva folded her arms, looked away. "It is not like him to not show up, to be completely out of touch." The worry made her a touch shrill, and she tried to control it.

"Isn't it?" Gibbs didn't rise to respond to her tone.

She sighed.

"Anyway, we were here about Jenny," Gibbs told her. "And you've done your share. I asked her about going off grid and she didn't say anything about Russia, just that she was doing 'what we used to do so well.'"

"Meaning sex or undercover work?" Ziva mused.

Gibbs glared at her for using the word at the office. "She didn't specify."

Ziva nodded thoughtfully. "So she was trying to distract you with option A."

He glared again. "The polygraph testing is a probe. Someone knows what she's trying to do with the Frog and is setting her up to lose her job."

"The CIA?" She raised her eyebrows.

Gibbs jerked his head affirmatively. "Kept McGee up all night to prove it."

Ziva glanced back at their take-out containers. "You should have called," she said, still a little hurt he hadn't.

He studied her a moment, recognizing it. "Next time I will."

"Tony--" Ziva started, but McGee stepped out of the bathroom and she cut herself off.

Gibbs looked between them, then when Ziva didn't continue, turned back to the plasma screen. "Now, here's what we know."


	65. 7x09 Child's Play

**Conversations**

A little Thanksgiving gift for all of you. All of you Americans, anyway. To the rest of you...happy November 26th! This follows, obviously, this week's episode. For those of you who haven't seen it, and don't mind being told what happens, read the next sentence for the details pertinent to this story. In solving the mystery, Ziva has to shoot someone. And then our team has thanksgiving dinner at Ducky's. Enjoy...

* * *

The words hung in the stillness as everyone turned to look at Tony.

_I'm thankful we have Ziva back, exactly the same, our very own super-ninja-assassin of the Mossad--_

He himself looked aghast, like he wished the turkey in front of him would burst into flames just so his gaff would be over.

Finally Ziva broke the tension by laughing at his expression, and the others took their cue from her. "I am thankful to be back too," she told the group warmly, and their joy quickly erased Tony's embarrassment. They toasted her, and Tony too for good measure. But as she set her glass down, Ziva saw Gibbs' steady glance on her.

While she and the others stared at Tony, he alone had seen her as her face contorted in uncertainty. As their eyes met now, he acknowledged her conflict with a nod. Was that still who she was?

*

He was in the kitchen drying dishes with Ducky when they heard the crash, and they ran together to the dining room, where they found Ziva standing frozen over a puddle of broken glass on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Ducky asked worriedly.

Ziva looked up, nearly frightened. "I'm so sorry," she said quickly.

Ducky shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it, dear, we've all had enough wine that I shouldn't have asked you to clear until later anyway." He took in her still upset visage and added, "It's not as if I need that 16th glass on a regular basis."

There was a flicker of a smile on Ziva's face, only because she was making an effort. Gibbs caught a look from Ducky and gave a slight nod. He jerked his head and Ziva followed him down the hall, then out onto the porch.

The night was cool, but when he turned to face her, Gibbs found Ziva trembling harder than the evening air could account for.

"What's up?" he asked gently.

Ziva looked away from him, out into the dim garden. She took a deep breath before speaking. "When I came back, when you brought me back, I thought I had changed. You told me I had changed."

Gibbs frowned, waiting for her to continue.

She turned to him, her eyes a little frantic. "Angela, today, asked me if I had ever killed someone, and I told her no. Because some days I don't want to think about what happened, so I let these last few months be my whole life. A peaceful life. When I have not killed anyone."

He could tell from how quickly she spoke that the wine was still loosening her tongue. But her eyes told him that she was completely sincere, that no matter how happy she seemed at dinner, this had been nagging at the back of her mind.

"I shouldn't have asked you to do it," he said apologetically.

Ziva met his eyes, her own a little clearer. "At least you asked." She offered a slight smile. "There was no other choice. It had to be done," she said firmly.

"You didn't have to be the one--"

"I did," she insisted, and Gibbs didn't want to push her, didn't protest. Ziva took a deep breath, blinking hard.

"You came back to NCIS," he said gently. "Sometimes this is part of the job."

She shrugged, her face a jumble of emotions. "I know. It has just been a long time now since I watched the life drain out of someone's face because of my own hand on the trigger. And remembering doing that means remembering crouching outside Salim's camp with my gun," she looked away, "and everything that followed."

Gibbs rested a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn't stiffen, he pulled her against him. "You are a new person, Ziva," he whispered to her. "This never would have bothered you before. You weren't as cold-hearted as Tony sometimes teased you for being, but you wouldn't have been out here now."

She looked up at him, still lost. "So what should I do?"

He was silent for a long moment. He really wasn't sure what he could offer to soften all the trauma she'd been through. "I think there's pie," he finally said lamely.

To his relief, he was rewarded with a smile. Gibbs released Ziva and rested a hand in the small of her back, guiding her back inside. At the door he stopped, looking at his hand on the handle, and added, "We're all thankful you're back, Ziver." He met her eyes and found more tears there as she nodded.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He opened the door, let her enter ahead of him.

"Pie!" Abby was shrieking somewhere inside.

Gibbs watched Ziva's shoulders relax as she walked in to meet the rest of the group. He smiled at the sound of Abby's voice but couldn't help wondering how long it would take Ziva to be truly whole again.


	66. 3xx, 7x09 Thanksgiving

**Conversations**

Oh, man! Two chapters in one day! You're lucky we're doing this weird thanksgiving-in-a-hotel thing or I'd have spent all day cooking instead of writing.

This touches on two Thanksgiving's, third season and seventh. There's a reference to Ziva's age in this chapter and I've chosen to believe her character is now about 30, since I think it's NONSENSE that on the citizenship application she showed this season it said she was born in 1982. (Really? She's 27? Meaning that in five years she was in the army, went to college, trained with Mossad, did all kinds of assassinating, became a control officer AND worked with Jenny? Nonsense. I assume they just wanted her to be the same age as Kelly Gibbs.)

Also, Columbia is in between Baltimore and DC.

* * *

November, 2005

Ziva stepped into the bullpen and stopped short. The guard downstairs had looked surprised when she arrived but hadn't commented, and as she glanced around Ziva finally understood his look. It was nearly seven AM and the lights were still on their dim night setting; there was not a single person in the room.

She glanced at her watch, confused. As she looked up again, Ziva was relieved to see Gibbs heading down the hall from the break room.

"Gibbs!" she called out.

He stopped and frowned at her as she approached. "You may not be an American, Ziva, but you didn't need to come in today."

She furrowed her brow, confused. "It is Thursday. What is special?"

Gibbs smirked. "No one told you? It's Thanksgiving."

Now Ziva looked away in thought, remembering a vague explanation from McGee several days earlier. "Because you wiped out the tribal peoples who once lived here?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, before that we were grateful for their friendship."

Ziva shrugged. "McGee said it was a time for families to share a meal. But he did not mention that we did not have to come to work."

Gibbs nodded understanding. "Dinner's usually early. And there's football. And a parade with balloons and Santa..." he trailed off as Ziva began to look appalled. "Never mind."

She cocked her head. "So why aren't you celebrating?" she asked.

He tensed, glancing around. The bullpen was still empty but for them. "It's sort of a family holiday."

She nodded her understanding and sympathy.

"The last time I spoke to Kelly and Shannon was at Thanksgiving," he said gruffly. "Back then we didn't have any of these webcams and internet phone services. You remember."

Ziva shrugged, a smile touching her lips. "I was eleven during Desert Storm. By the time I joined Mossad, we had the internet."

Gibbs snorted in humor, shaking his head at the reminder of her youth. She seemed so much more experienced than Tony or McGee most of the time.

"What did they have to say?" Ziva asked gently.

He shrugged. "The usual. They missed me, they loved me. They were having Thanksgiving with her parents."

"So you choose not to celebrate the holiday anymore?"

"I just came in to file paperwork," he explained. "Shannon's mom and her sister's family still live in Columbia. I'm leaving in a couple hours to drive out there and join them."

Ziva looked surprised but pleased. "I did not know you had family near by."

Gibbs looked uncomfortable. "Don't see them too often. The didn't really like me getting remarried...so many times. But they miss them, too."

She nodded in sympathy.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I'd invite you, but it's not my house."

Ziva shrugged indifferently. "I suppose I will go home and celebrate the day off!"

Gibbs chuckled. "See you in the morning, Ziva."

*

November, 2009

Four years later, Ziva cornered him in an elevator, holding up Ducky's invitation.

"If you have plans, just tell him so," she said pointedly. "He will understand. He knows, now, about your family."

Gibbs shook his head. "Shannon's mother died a few months ago," he said, his voice steady but his eyes averted to hide their emotion.

Ziva reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged her off. "After seeing your child's body, it's hard to grieve as much for people who make it to ninety."

"Still." She leaned to the side, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You do not want to celebrate with the rest of the family?"

He looked away. "No."

Ziva squeezed his arm again. "Then come with us." Her expression turned irritated. "You have caused nearly everyone to miss their plans. You should at least make the team's celebration complete." She tried to look imperious.

He shook his head, but didn't say no, said instead, "I'll see."

Flipping the elevator back on, Ziva left it at that.

When he turned up later that night, she smiled warmly at him, and was relieved when he smiled back.

"I am thankful for new memories to replace less pleasant ones," Ziva said obscurely when it was her turn, and as she looked around the table, Gibbs nodded to her, and they shared the thought, and the moment.


	67. 7xx Naked

**Conversations**

If you missed it, there were two Thanksgiving chapters last week—chapter 65 about Ziva's reaction to killing the man in Child's Play and chapter 66 about where Gibbs used to go on Thanksgiving.

This chapter falls during the period after _Truth and Consequences _before Ziva turns up at NCIS magically healed. It's also, therefore, before the chapter I wrote for _Reunion_, so Ziva and Gibbs haven't talked through what happened to her yet. There's not a lot of talking in this "conversation," but...yeah. Enjoy!

* * *

Ziva's voice sounded rusty on the phone, creaky with disuse, but Gibbs ached with pleasure at hearing it and drove at once to pick her up from the hospital.

She'd been there three days so he knew where her room was and went there quickly. Peering through the window, Gibbs found her still sitting on the edge of her bed in her hospital gown. As he knocked, Ziva's eyes jerked toward him, and he could see her force herself to relax as she recognized him. She waved him inside.

"Ziver," he said warmly, rolling the name over his tongue.

She tried to smile back but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I just need to get dressed," she said formally.

Gibbs held out a bag he'd been given. "These are from Abby. She said to tell you to roll the cuffs. And to hang on to them until you get some things of your own."

Ziva smiled faintly but genuinely as she dumped the bag onto the bed. On the top of the pile were some of Abby's plainest black jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. Ziva took them and disappeared into the bathroom. Gibbs couldn't help noticing how she took a step out of her way to keep from brushing past him.

When she emerged, he nodded with approval, though he noted that she'd needed to belt the pants and that the shirt hung on her. Ziva slipped on a pair of flip-flops that were clearly too large, repacked Abby's bag and turned to Gibbs with a question in her eyes. "How do I look?"

"Great," he said firmly. _Naked_, he thought. It took him a moment to process the thought. She was missing her necklace, but that had only ever been a token, something she carried the way he sometimes kept his first wedding ring in his pocket. The hand fluttering at her hip clarified the problem for him.

Gibbs smirked a bit as he decided what to do about it. "Come on," he said gruffly, holding the door for her. This time she let herself come within inches of him as she passed, and he was relieved.

Ziva didn't ask where they were going, but he could tell from the quirking of her eyebrows that she was confused when they headed out to I-495 instead of taking local roads back to his house.

"Thought you'd better get outfitted as soon as possible," Gibbs tossed out.

Ziva shrugged. "I do not mind wearing Abby's clothes."

He shook his head. "Wasn't talking about clothes."

Now she looked at him carefully, but Gibbs didn't elaborate. It was worth it when he got to see her eyes light up as he pulled into the parking lot of the Army-Navy surplus store.

Inside, Gibbs was careful to stay between Ziva and any of the other patrons or clerks who passed them, and when they reached the right counter, he pointed through the glass into the display case. "We want that tray."

The man behind the counter looked Ziva over and then turned back to Gibbs before mutely sliding the tray out and leaving it for them.

"Go ahead," Gibbs told her. "Get as many as you want."

She smiled and blinked back tears in the same instant.

"Ziva?"

She smiled wider. "You know me so well," she murmured.

Gibbs laughed. "A gun permit will take a few days. Decide which you want for now."

She nodded obediently, emotion lingering on her face, and hefted each knife in turn, exploring their balance and mechanism.

Gibbs noted the surprise of the clerk watching them, but said nothing.

Finally Ziva made her choice. "These two."

He signaled for help and paid quickly.

When they reached the car, Ziva stretched in the warm September air, then glanced around before slipping the knives into her pocket and waistband. When she looked back to Gibbs, Ziva was standing straighter than before, a hint of her old confidence returning.

"Thank you, Gibbs," she said.

He nodded. "You're welcome." The naked fear had left her eyes. Gibbs was relieved as he sank into the driver's seat of the car. Ziva was back.


	68. 5xx Mistletoe

**Conversations**

Sorry it's been awhile, I'm mostly out of episodes to write about. Plus I was working on my story Silence, which if you haven't read, you might like.

This is a little Christmas story because it's snowing here, set after Corporal Punishment (5x10) which aired in late November—that year they didn't do a Christmas episode. And just to remind you, Damon Werth (Corporal Punishment himself) is the same character who turned up this year in Outlaws and In-laws.

* * *

The doors opened and Ziva looked in, freezing as she saw Gibbs in the center of the elevator. He took a step sideways and she awkwardly stepped in, turning to stand beside him.

She flinched, wondering if he expected her speak. She had to wonder what he'd seen.

Earlier that evening, she'd turned up to work dressed for the Christmas party. He'd raised an eyebrow at her attire and she hadn't been able to help blushing.

"Well, I have not felt dressed up enough at the Christmas parties here in the past," she had said diffidently, smoothing her black silk dress over her hips.

He shrugged. "Looks good," he muttered.

"Thank you." She was a little nervous about the evening. Butterflies. She didn't think she was that kind of woman.

"Hot date, Ziva?" Tony had quipped, walking into the bullpen.

She'd turned toward him and he stopped cold as he took in the full effect of the dress, the way it showed off her curves and scooped far lower than her usual office wear. She'd appreciated the attention but worried that there was no way Gibbs could miss it.

"Yes, Tony," Ziva answered, directing her words to the blond woman standing just behind him.

"I'm Sandy," the woman said hesitantly, extending her hand.

They'd left for the party without mishap, Gibbs staying behind for paperwork.

Except she'd seen him again, later.

There was drinking and Damon had turned out to be a very good dancer—and then came the mistletoe, cheerfully pointed out by Ducky. So they'd kissed. It was their first, although she'd intimated to Tony that they had an intense physical relationship underway. It had been a long time since she'd kissed someone, and the strength and control that had first attracted her to Werth hadn't gone away. It was a great first kiss.

Just as Ziva pulled back, she'd caught Gibbs' eyes, straight across the room, unreadable. She looked away quickly, and by the time she looked back he was gone. Now she worried what he thought, whether he judged her for kissing a former subject of investigation. She tried not to squirm. Perhaps this was just an interrogation tactic. She wouldn't give in to the silence.

***

When she stepped in, Gibbs tried not to edge away. He hoped she could keep it to herself.

Abby had gotten him down to the Christmas party late, with most of his flask of bourbon already poured down his throat as social lubrication. At once she'd whisked him off to the bar and begun pouring eggnog and punch down his throat, declaiming wildly about the joys of Christmas. He let her, enjoying her exuberance. Kelly had never found out the truth about Santa, and Abby's belief was a sweet reminder.

He was gazing out across the room, his drink to his lips, when Gibbs stopped short.

There was mistletoe, of course, it was an office Christmas party, but he was caught off guard by who was under it.

"I know, right?" Abby had piped up to his right, following his gaze. "He sent McGee and DiNozzo to the hospital! But she introduced us before, and he's a really nice guy. When he's not all drugged up."

Gibbs nodded mutely. He found himself suddenly jealous. Not of Werth but of Ziva, or rather both of them, of having that sort of intimacy and pleasure.

"Jethro," Jenny purred as she stepped up to his other side. He turned to look at her and she had changed and he had changed but he was drunk and her tone was familiar. He became suddenly aware of the urge to drag her to her office and tear off the burgundy chiffon she was wrapped in like a child getting a...well, whatever kids most desperately wanted this Christmas.

Just as he'd opened his mouth to greet her in turn, her phone had vibrated in her purse and she'd sworn. Digging it out, she answered it quickly, listened, then rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said, irritated but smiling.

He'd followed her up to MTAC, his heart racing, and helped her dispatch instructions to the Paris office about safe houses. He wondered if she remembered what he remembered. Then he kicked himself. Of course she did.

But she'd led him back toward the elevator without more swing to her hips than usual. It was still enough. With that thought in mind, he glanced up and caught sight of mistletoe hanging over the catwalk.

"Jenny," he said roughly, and she turned.

He wasn't sure if her lips tasted sweet or if it was the aftertaste of his drink, but he wanted more, and more heat, more reality, less memory. His fingers were in her hair, his thumb at her temple, and he could feel Jenny's pulse racing as she pulled away from him after a moment.

"No," she said gently, regretfully.

Gibbs had watched her turn and walk away, his stomach churning with more than alcohol. When she was out of sight, he turned and saw Ziva below, giving Werth a tour, looking up at him.

He wasn't sure if she'd seen the kiss, knew that she would hardly have been surprised if she had. Now the eggnog was wearing off and he didn't want to talk about it. Gibbs tried not to sigh with relief as the doors slid open.

***

They stepped out of the elevator and hurried excitedly in opposite directions, without speaking a word. Both were quite relieved they'd avoided _that _conversation.


	69. 7xx Reminder

**Conversations**

This falls somewhere in the late fall of season 7, after Ziva's been home a while.

Suggestions? These are become more extra-cannon, for lack of episodes to comment on, so if there are plausible topics of conversation you'd like to hear, let me know.

* * *

Gibbs was leaning over McGee to see something on his computer when he glanced up and saw Ziva on the catwalk, pressed into the wall, visibly hyperventilating. He took the stairs three at a time to get to her, sure she was having a flashback, sure something was reminding her of the pain she went through, the despair.

Ziva was stiff with panic, but her eyes met his with enough clarity that he knew she was still connected to reality.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, agitated by her fear.

She didn't answer, but her eyes darted toward the door to MTAC just as it opened and an agent left, heading the other way down the hall.

Gibbs turned to peer in the door. He couldn't see the screens from his angle, but he could hear a voice that stopped him cold. Deep, accented, arrogant. It took a fraction of a second for him to place it, but he was sure that for her recognition was instant. As soon as he knew who was talking to Vance, he was filled with the rage he felt every time he was reminded that Eli David was still alive somewhere, walking around and getting his way.

But anger did Ziva no good.

He looked back to her, saw in her face now not only fear but the misery of the knowledge she carried around with her. Gibbs sighed to himself. She seemed so much better these days it was easy to forget the extent of what she'd been through. He leaned against the wall beside her, between her and MTAC, and saw her relax slightly.

"Come on," he said firmly as the door shut behind him, cutting off the noise from the screens inside. Easing an arm around Ziva's shoulders, he led her to the elevator.

She still hadn't spoken when he pushed the emergency stop mechanism.

"He can't get you _here_," Gibbs offered, trying for humor.

She smiled sadly. "No."

"Tell me, Ziver," he said evenly.

Ziva turned to face him, looked up hesitantly. "I needed to have the Director sign off on some paperwork. His secretary told me he was in MTAC but not why."

Gibbs nodded once.

She struggled with the next words. "He sent me to die," she whispered. "He did not care what came of me. And still..." she closed her eyes, ashamed. "And still there is some part of me that hears his voice and thinks—my father!" She looked up at him, bereft. "Just as if I was still six years old."

He wrapped his arms around her without even pausing to think, hugged her hard against him. "There's nothing wrong with that," he said softly into her hair.

Ziva shook her head as she pulled away. "I want to be rid of him," she said, her tone turning frantic. "The rest of me hears his voice and thinks he is trying to control me again, to use my life for his purposes whether or not they are my own."

Gibbs studied her. Conflict was as plain in her face as in her words.

"At least--" she shook her head at the ridiculousness of the thought. "At least Ari died. I do not know what I would have done if I had had to live with him _and _his betrayals."

He nodded, refusing to laugh, refusing to allow her to deflect from what had happened. "What are you going to do about your father?"

She shrugged sadly. "What is there to do? We have a case to solve. He is one person in more than six billion, and I will go on without him."

Gibbs reached out and squeezed her shoulder. He wanted more than ever to take his sniper rifle and get on a plane to Israel, but violence wouldn't solve this problem. And yet neither would words. He had no idea what would.

"We had better get back to work," Ziva said, sensing that he'd finished with her.

Wordlessly, Gibbs reached out and switched the elevator back on.

When they reached their desks, McGee and Tony looked up questioningly at Gibbs, but he shrugged at them while Ziva went to her seat and lifted her phone to follow up on the case. As all three agents got to work, Gibbs watched them, trying to imagine reaching a point where he could order any of them on a suicide mission: any circumstances, any justification. He couldn't.


	70. 7x08 Power Down

**Conversations**

Sigh. I'm home from work, sick. But that means you lovely folks get an update!

Just a bit of recap: In Power Down, Ziva is delegated to find the dead woman's husband, but by the time we see him with Gibbs, he already knows what happened to his wife.

* * *

"Agent DiNozzo will walk you out, he's leaving for the night," Gibbs told the victim's husband, signaling to Tony to lead him.

Tony stood at once with a nod and the two men walked toward the elevator.

As Gibbs watched them go, his eyes caught on Ziva, her face perplexed as she watched the men leave.

He took the two steps to her desk, but didn't speak until the elevator doors had closed. "Ziva."

She spun toward him, caught off guard.

Gibbs frowned. "What's up?"

She tilted her head, trying to find the words for what she'd seen yesterday. "You sent me to bring him in. The husband."

"Yeah." Gibbs shrugged.

"Tony came with me."

He nodded, waiting impatiently for a point.

Ziva stared off to the side, remembering as she spoke. "Tony is usually brusque when he gives bad news. But yesterday...I have never seen him so empathetic." She looked up. "The man said that his wife couldn't be dead, that he'd know, that he was supposed to see her later."

Gibbs nodded, remembering his own reaction with the ache of old pain.

"Tony was so gentle, trying to make him believe it," she whispered. "But he couldn't take his eyes off me."

"We believed you were dead."

"He wouldn't speak to me on the drive back. I couldn't tell what he was thinking."

Gibbs leaned against the partition, studying her face in the dim illumination of the emergency lighting. "You've lost someone you loved before. Did you really think he took it lightly?"

Ziva sighed, bewildered. "I thought he must hate me. Gibbs—I said harsh things to him, in Israel."

"You mourned for Ari in spite of a lot."

She reared back, but didn't refute what he'd said.

Gibbs opened his mouth, unsure if he should tell her, if it was too intimately Tony's story. He did it anyway. "There was one case, a week after we lost you."

Ziva was watching his face intently.

"Like today, a man lost his wife. Tony and I went to tell him." He paused. "And Tony couldn't do it. He couldn't give that pain he was feeling to someone else. For a moment—it reminded me of myself, my first case like that, the way I reacted having lost Shannon."

Ziva's mouth was open in surprise as she tried to imagine flippant Tony unable to speak. "You told me he couldn't deal well with it, but..."

"You've always thought his background made him a little weak."

"Not weak!" Ziva defended. "Just...he has...he does not often let things affect him deeply in ways other people can see."

Gibbs nodded agreement. "You should know, though. He didn't care who saw him distraught over you. He didn't care about much of anything. And he knows just how lucky he is that he got you back."

"So yesterday..." She reevaluated.

He could see the pieces fitting together in her mind. Neither of them said aloud what it meant. She wasn't ready to say it yet, and Gibbs knew it would only make their lives more complicated.

She looked up at him. "I am not his wife."

Gibbs snorted at the triviality of the distinction. "Go home and sleep," he ordered her. "The power should be back tomorrow."

Ziva nodded, accepting that he was ending the conversation.

But Gibbs could feel her watching him as she gathered her things, watching him and wondering about Tony.


	71. 5x06 Chimera

**Conversations**

This one's for my dad, who used to tell me 'Princess Emma' stories when I was little. Also for Mia58 and ME Wofford who suggested doing Chimera. It took a little while for the idea to ferment, but here it is...hope you like! (More suggestions are welcome!)

* * *

"They really train you to believe in the unbelievable?" Gibbs asked skeptically, crouching in front of Ziva as she lounged on their pile of duffels in the corner of the hangar. The chopper that had picked them up from the motorboat on which they'd escaped the _Chimera_ had dropped them in Maine, and they had to wait another hour still before a flight was available back to DC.

"Is it really that different than expect the unexpected?" she asked lightly, stretching as she sat up.

"Yeah." Gibbs spat the syllable irrascibly.

Ziva straightened, eying the sleeping forms of Tony and McGee on benches along the wall. Tony was drooling. She smirked slightly, saving her ammunition for the flight back, and turned to Gibbs. "Mossad did not exactly tell us that," she said honestly.

His eyes narrowed.

Ziva shrugged. "You are an only child."

"Yeah. So?"

She sighed, smiling faintly. "There is a certain kind of awe you have for your big brother when he is bigger and stronger than you, and charming and kind." She peeked to make sure the others were sleeping. "In Judaism we have legends of the Golem, a man made of clay who was created to defend the Jewish people." Ziva tilted her head, looking up at Gibbs. "When I was six, and Ari ten, he would tell me stories at night, about the Golems in Mossad, who fought with our father." She smiled fondly. "He did not make them sound like stories, but like secrets," she said emphatically. "And he was my magical big brother. Of course I believed him. Completely."

Gibbs smiled too, looking away. "I used to make up stories for Kelly. Not about monsters. But the kind princess and her kingdom."

She laughed softly, delighted. "Would you tell me one?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I don't really remember them, now," he said softly.

Ziva nodded once, then returned to the subject before he could grow too somber. "Ari and I would joke about it as adults, when we were both part of Mossad. How if we made it to the next mission, the next clearance level, we would finally find out the truth about the Golems. But I...I think it has always made me a little more ready to believe. Even when I know something is not rational, I have a tingling little doubt."

"Niggling."

She frowned. "What is that?"

"Your doubt."

Ziva sighed, perplexed, and Gibbs shook his head. "Never mind."

She rolled her eyes.

"And you weren't wrong. On the ship," he added when she glanced at him. "There was someone on board."

Ziva nodded, accepting his words. She paused before looking into his face and asking quietly, "After all you've lost, you don't believe in spirits? Ghosts or souls—something? Some existence of those who have gone?"

Gibbs jerked back instinctively at the question. He looked away and back again before answering gruffly. "Never seen any evidence of it." He shook his head once as he spoke. But there was an almost plaintive quality to his tone as he added, "Have you?"

Now it was Ziva's eyes that went wide and sad. She pursed her lips, then shrugged in uncertainty. "I catch a scent of my mother's perfume now and then, or hear one of Tali's favorite songs. I'm sad and I catch sight of something beautiful. How can I know it is not their will?"

Gibbs nodded, mesmerized by the yearning in her eyes.

Ziva's lips quirked. "But most of the time I do not believe in the Golem. Just in the memory of Ari the way he once was."

Gibbs nodded again, awed by her capacity for recovery. Awed for a moment by his own.

DiNozzo interrupted them with a series of snorting snores, and Gibbs and Ziva chuckled together as they watched him.

Ziva's eyes were lighter as she looked back to Gibbs, but he set his hand on her shoulder a moment, steadying himself, or maybe her.

She smiled gently, then wickedly. "There is something else Ari taught me," she said slyly. "While someone is sleeping, you get a bowl of water--"


	72. 7x10 Faith

**Conversations**

A chapter in two scenes, a post-ep for Faith Um, this won't make sense if you haven't seen the show yet. The first scene here begins about a third of the way in, when they've begun to suspect the father. Suggestions? I apologize for the infrequent updates, but I'm tapped. Plus ridiculously busy. But Happy Hanukkah, everyone!

* * *

Ziva lifted her phone to her ear, still smiling at Tony's ridiculousness. Gibbs' voice greeted her abruptly. "Ziver, meet me in Abby's lab." She responded quickly and set the receiver down, standing as she did. With a shrug to Tony, she headed for the elevator.

Gibbs was waiting for her on Abby's floor when the doors opened.

"Done already?" Ziva asked.

He jerked his head, leading her away from the lab.

"Gibbs?"

He stopped when they were far enough to be out of earshot from the lab or anyone exiting the elevator. "How you doing?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva tensed instinctively. "I am working, Gibbs," she answered, her tone slightly defensive.

Gibbs stared into her, keeping his calm. "That man might have killed his son."

She nodded once. "Yes."

"Does working this bother you?" he demanded, pushing harder.

"At least he had the courage to do it himself," Ziva snapped.

Gibbs sighed, the sadness in his eyes easing her anger at once. "We don't know your father meant--" he began.

Her shaking head cut him off. "He did. And I do not wish to discuss this now." Her tone was firm.

"I just need to know you won't project, Ziver." Gibbs ordered. "You might be right. You might not."

Ziva shrugged. "The motive is there." She looked away. "Mossad was our religion. I betrayed Eli—or he thinks I betrayed him—just as the chaplain believes his son did." She watched Gibbs nod, then gave in. "It could also be the wife. DiNozzo always says it is the wife."

"That your theory or his?" Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

She glared. "Mine."

He nodded once. "Come on, let's check in with Abby. Then investigate."

***

They watched on the screen as a man at prayer was killed by his little brother.

"Abel and Cain," Ziva said softly.

The others agreed, interpreting the rest of the evidence as the conclusion fell into place.

Abby shook her head, still staring at the screen. "He killed his own brother! Sure it's biblical, but isn't that one of the worst things you can imagine? And on Christmas? I've had fights with mine, but to kill your own history....I'd miss him too much!" She turned back to the group. "On Christmas!" she repeated, making her point. But when she caught Ziva's expression, she gasped. "Ziva! I didn't--"

"DiNozzo, get the car," Gibbs cut her off. "David, with me."

Ziva avoided Abby's eyes as she followed Gibbs out the door and into the elevator, glancing down the hall at Tony as he headed for the parking bay.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, he stalled the thing and turned to her. "You okay?"

Ziva stared at the ground, her mouth twisting. "Of all the things," she murmured, "it still comes back to this."

"Ziver."

She looked up at him.

"Abby didn't mean anything by it."

Ziva nodded. "It is still true, Gibbs. It is one of the worst things."

"You okay?" he repeated.

She hesitated, then nodded again. "It seems there are only so many courses fathers and children can fall into before they start to be repeated. Do not worry, my past is far enough behind me."

"Good." Gibbs ended his questioning.

"How are _you_ and your father doing?" she asked softly as he reached for the button to restart the elevator.

Gibbs pulled his hand back, turned back to her. "I found out he had someone break into the store."

"Oh, my!" Ziva exclaimed, her eyes concerned.

"He shot 'im." There was just a touch of pride in his voice.

Ziva's face quirked in instant respect.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Not sure what I'm going to do about him, though."

She looked away, then answered softly, her words directed to the corner of the elevator. "Keep asking. Checking. It...it never hurts."

He leaned in, hugging her with one arm and kissing her forehead. "Good. Merry Christmas, Ziva."


	73. 7xx Hanukkah

**Conversations**

Much has been written about Ziva's star of David necklace, and whether or not she got one for Christmas. Some of those stories have been well done and some have been a bit trite, but I didn't really like the idea of someone on the team trying to restore the heritage Ziva is giving up. Does that make sense? So here's what I came up with, let me know what you think...

* * *

**Friday, December 11, 2009**

Gibbs let his face unfold into a half-smile of satisfaction as he led the way out of the synagogue. Another case solved, and this one had nothing to do with the marine being Jewish or others being prejudiced. He'd just been insufferable until someone finally took him out. Gibbs' smile widened for a moment. He'd have to tease DiNozzo about it.

"Happy Hanukkah!" the rabbi called after them as they stepped out into the cold night air, and Gibbs' smile vanished as he saw Ziva freeze in front of him, every muscle in her body cringing for a split second before she hurried on toward the car.

Gibbs glanced around. DiNozzo and McGee didn't seem to have noticed. Ziva didn't turn to him, her avoidance further cementing his sudden knowledge that something was wrong.

As they drove back to NCIS, the three younger agents joked lightly about the case, Ziva quieter but still involved. Gibbs studied her occasionally in the rear-view mirror. When they arrived, he dropped the men at their cars, but then passed Ziva's without stopping and parked.

"Gibbs?" Ziva undid her seat-belt and turned toward him. Her voice was soft, questioning but not surprised.

"It's Hanukkah?" he asked in return.

She took a slow breath and nodded. "Tonight is the first night."

"What do they do for Hanukkah in Israel?" He watched her stiffen.

Ziva shrugged. "It is a minor holiday. Nothing like Christmas here. People tell the story, light the menorah, exchange gifts with their families. There are special foods..." She looked away, and Gibbs could tell she was remembering something fondly. Ziva met his eyes again. "Even if I could go back," she shrugged, unable to find the words. "It meant a lot when I was a little girl. But I did not know it was Hanukkah until the rabbi said so."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully for a moment, then asked interestedly, "what foods?"

He was rewarded with a laugh. "Did you want me to make you some?" Ziva asked in mock-surprise.

"Well, now you know it's a holiday..." Gibbs began.

Ziva shook her head, laughing again, then nodded. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "Come over at eight," she said, resigned.

Gibbs nodded confirmation and unlocked the doors, smiling as he watched her walk away from the car.

***

Gibbs arrived just after eight, a hastily bought and fortunately store-wrapped package under his arm. He knocked at Ziva's door and heard her call out a welcome. He opened the door and stepped inside, found her at the kitchen table with a bowl of shredded potatoes in front of her that seemed impossibly large.

"Did you invite the others?" Gibbs asked lightly.

Ziva looked up and took a deep breath. It surprised Gibbs to realize she was fighting back strong emotion. She set down the potato and grater she was holding and wiped her starchy fingers on a towel before reaching beneath the collar of her shirt and tugging on a chain he hadn't noticed earlier that day. After a second a star emerged, one he recognized with a jolt of surprise.

She shook her head at the expression on his face. "It is not the same one," she said softly, pulling it away from her throat so she could study the star as well. "My father gave me that one on the occasion of my bat mitzvah." She pursed her lips before continuing. "When I got home tonight...for Hanukkah he sent me another." Ziva kept her eyes on the star so she wouldn't have to look at him. "I thought I would wear it, would see...what it meant."

Gibbs glanced around, taking in the ripped manila envelope on the table beside her potatoes, the lack of other preparations for dinner. He pulled a chair up so he could sit beside Ziva, his fingers gently slipping the star from hers.

He studied it, turning it in the light. He wasn't sure how to feel. From the look on Ziva's face, she wasn't either. Gibbs rubbed his thumb over the metal. He would have done anything to get his daughter back, but he'd never believed Eli David was a man like him.

Gibbs looked up, meeting Ziva's conflicted eyes.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Her eyebrows jerked up in surprise. "It is a beautiful piece," she said slowly. Then she continued in a whisper. "But I do not want him to think I am his."

Gibbs shrugged, releasing the star from his fingers. "If you want to hurt him, send it back. If you really don't care, then wear it if you like it."

Ziva nodded slowly, thoughtfully, then reached behind her neck and undid the clasp, pooling the chain in her hand. She looked back up to Gibbs. "At the least, I do not want to think about it now," she said firmly.

He nodded, watching as she slipped the necklace into a box she lifted from beneath the torn envelope, then rose and put the box away.

"What else do we need?" Gibbs asked, gesturing to the potatoes.

Ziva finally registered the volume of potatoes and rolled her eyes. "Two eggs. And chop some onion."

Gibbs headed for her kitchen, quickly finding the requisite ingredients. He paused when he heard paper tearing, and then a gasp of delight. He smiled broadly, then peeked back into the living room to see Ziva at the dining table, her eyes alight as she began to sing in a melancholy cascade of Hebrew over the lit menorah.


	74. 6xx Photographs of the Fallen

**Conversations**

Snow day for me! New chapter for you.

This chapter takes place after Cloak and Dagger (see chapters 52 and 53) but is based on the moment at the end of Collateral Damage (6x07) when Gibbs, after spending the whole episode reevaluating whether he was really wrong about Langer, goes and puts up Langer's ID in the bar. Of course he later takes it back to leave in Lee's car and creep her the f* out.

* * *

The bar was mostly empty; it was nearly ten o'clock but on the other hand it was Tuesday night and the residents of Washington DC seemed to have decided to stay in. Ziva sat at the bar, empty stools on either side of her, one hand wrapped around her beer bottle and the other concealing a small photograph. A few men had tried to pick her up, but she'd dismissed them brusquely, and now she sat staring down at the picture, lost in thought.

"Double bourbon, neat."

The voice punctuated her thoughts, sending them tumbling, rearranging. It would have been one thing if he hadn't known for certain it was her, but now...

"Ziver," he said to his drink.

She turned, her face as expressionless as she could keep it. "Hello."

"Thought you'd be home by now, it's been a while since we've had a night without work." He took a long sip, still not looking at her.

Ziva shook her head. "And you are not home either. Surely your boat is lonely." Her tone was wry and he cracked a smile.

"That's what makes boats better than wives, David. They don't _get_ lonely."

A ghost of a smile fit itself to her lips, too, but quickly faded.

Gibbs reached into his pocket and pulled something out, tapping it against the bar with his free hand, rotating it around and around.

Ziva darted a glance, and froze when she saw what it was, when she realized why he had come here tonight.

Gibbs' hand stilled, his eyes on Langer's face. "I put this up here last week," he said abruptly.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "And took it down?"

"Realized that if I trusted that my gut was always right about him, it meant someone had tricked us all. Had to do something about it. Needed this for that." He glanced at Ziva to make sure she was following. She nodded.

She tilted her hand slightly, letting him see the photograph she held: Michelle Lee, posing nervously with a stapler. Ziva suddenly wished she had brought Lee's ID photo as well, something less personal. Remembering the nuances of Michelle's expressions, the details of her life, made her death all the more real. A week had passed and Ziva's tears were gone, but the ache in her chest wasn't fading as quickly. "I thought she might deserve a place here too," Ziva said softly.

Gibbs let himself study the face of the young agent in the photograph. "She killed Langer," he said, tapping the badge one more time for good measure.

Ziva nodded equivocally. "Only to protect someone," she pointed out, meeting Michelle's eyes. "Only for her sister." Her fingers tightened on the picture.

Gibbs lightly clasped her hand over the picture. "I'm not saying I don't understand her choice, Ziver," he said quietly. "But that wall is for heroes."

She turned to him at once, her eyes agitated. "She gave her life for yours. She protected all those people on that bus, all the people in both our countries." Ziva took a deep breath to keep herself from shouting. Already others in the bar were glancing in their direction. She pulled her hand free of Gibbs and took a long drink of her beer.

He watched her, waiting out her emotions.

Ziva continued after a minute's pause. "We have both repented of our past actions," she said very softly. "And been forgiven, by each other if not the world. Do we not owe the same to her? She tried her very best to do the right thing in a bad situation."

To his own surprise, Gibbs found himself nodding. "Alright," he conceded gruffly. Gibbs swallowed the rest of his bourbon in a single shot, then stood.

Ziva's eyes flared with surprise, but she didn't question his decision. She got to her feet beside him.

Crossing to the wall of photos—Cassidy, Todd, too many friends—Gibbs slipped Langer's ID back into the spot he'd put it a week earlier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ziva begin to extend Lee's picture, then stop.

After a moment Gibbs realized what was going on in her head. It had been in his for months. He turned to her. "Ziver," he said slowly. She was looking down at the photograph. Gibbs turned her to face him.

Ziva looked up at him, intent. "You waited months to put Langer's up. Because you believed he was a traitor."

"Didn't trust myself."

She nodded, the grief in her eyes returning.

Gibbs set his hands on her shoulders. "I know that since you came here you've learned a lot about trusting people. And you weren't wrong. Lee was a good agent, you were right about that. If she hadn't been, she would have given herself away a lot sooner. You can grieve, Ziva. But you can't take responsibility." He could feel her relax under his hands. "Go on," he said softly, and released her.

Ziva slid the photo into place just below Langer's, then stepped back.

Gibbs stood behind her, a comforting arm around her shoulders.

They looked a long time, dutiful, somber, remembering their dead, their mistakes.

A few minutes later someone clomped in the door, announcing, "it's snowing!"

Ziva whirled, shaking off Gibbs' arm. "Snow!" she exclaimed.

He grinned down at her, rolling his eyes. Every year she got like this for the first snowfall. "Come on," he said, throwing some bills on the counter for their drinks and leading Ziva out as she slipped on her coat.

Out in the parking lot, he watched her twirl in delight beneath the heavy fall of white flakes and couldn't help smiling. This is what he needed to remember, even while he knew Ziva was getting herself into some kind of mess with Mossad: they were still here to enjoy this together. And there was no way he was wrong about her.


	75. 7xx Silence

**Conversations**

Hey, folks! Sorry for the hiatus, I've been writing some other pieces for the last few weeks as well as enjoying the company of family and friends during the holiday break. But now I'm back to this! And there's a new episode tomorrow, so hopefully this won't be the only update of the week.

This chapter is a sort of a challenge I set for myself: to write a conversation without dialogue. As a caveat I should say that I know next to nothing about hand-to-hand combat.

To give it some context, this is where this falls in the order for the chapters about season 7. I know, there's no logic to the chapter numbers.

Chapter 18: Truth and Consequences 7x01

Chapter 67: Naked

**Chapter 75: Silence (You are here!)

Chapter 23: Reunion 7x02

Chapter 37: Loss of Language

Chapter 42: Code of Conduct 7x05

Chapter 51: Outlaws and In-laws 7x06

Chapter 55: Endgame 7x07

Chapter 70: Power Down 7x08

Chapter 69: Reminder

Chapter 65: Child's Play 7x09

Chapter 66: Thanksgiving

Chapter 73: Hanukkah

Chapter 12: Child

Chapter 72: Faith 7x10

* * *

Gibbs ran his hand along the wall of the gym in the dark until his fingers swept across the light-switch. He flicked it on and glanced back toward the entrance, where Ziva was still flinching away from the darkness with her back pressed to the door. As her eyes adjusted and she took in the space, he could see her anxiety warring with delighted surprise that this place still existed, was in fact just as she'd left it.

A jerk of his head got her attention and Gibbs crossed to the floor mats, shedding the light jacket he'd worn. It was past midnight, but Ziva had been agitated at being cooped up in the house for the week since she'd been back and had wanted to spar. He was wary of hurting her but her check-up had gone well and Gibbs couldn't deny her anything right now.

Ziva passed him, bracing herself against the wall as she stretched. Averting his eyes before she caught him watching her, Gibbs took a spot of his own and began to warm up.

After a few minutes he heard her breath catch and looked over to see Ziva breathing heavily after only a couple dozen push-ups. He frowned at the sight but forced his features clear as she turned to him, met his eyes, nodded.

Gibbs dropped into a fighting posture as a matter of instinct. Ziva did likewise with a look of relief. He was glad as he watched her; this was the most comfortable Ziva had seemed since they'd found her.

They circled each other warily, Gibbs determined to let Ziva make the first move. Except for doctors, she hadn't gotten close enough to let him or anyone else touch her since that first night back and he wondered if she was ready for this.

At long last Ziva struck out with a kick that he quickly deflected. He feinted right and nearly caught her with a blow to her left side. The way Ziva twisted away from him told Gibbs more about the injuries she'd suffered than any of the medical details her doctors had begrudgingly shared with him.

They continued to spar, Gibbs carefully taking Ziva's measure. She favored her left side, didn't get close enough to do him real damage if it meant he had a chance to pin her down, never let herself be thrown to the mat if she could avoid it.

He was so distracted by his evaluation that Ziva's foot connected with his ribs before he could get all the way out of the way. He clutched his chest, wincing, but grinned when he looked up to see Ziva smiling sheepishly, only pretending at apology.

Shaking his head as he smiled back, Gibbs tilted his head toward the door and crossed to pick up his jacket.

Ziva sighed and followed him.

As they stood silently in the elevator on the way back out of the building, Gibbs wanted to ask Ziva how she was. But as she rolled her head on her neck, relaxing, she shifted her posture. Her shoulder rested against Gibbs' arm and he froze, wondering if she'd strike out or panic. She didn't, and he smirked, snorting softly.

Ziva turned toward him, raising her eyebrows inquisitively.

Gibbs shook his head gently, leading the way out of the elevator. He had his answer: she'd be fine.


	76. 7x11 Ignition

**Conversations**

This chapter falls toward the end of Ignition, immediately after Gibbs corners Hart in the street.

* * *

Ziva slouched against the wall back of the elevator. She'd known Abby would have called with anything new, but it had been nice to get away from her desk for a few minutes for a quick trip to the lab. In the meantime, they still hadn't figured out where the jet-pack had come from and now that M. Allison Hart had stolen the key players away again, the team was left to their own powers of reason to solve the case.

The doors opened unexpectedly on the first floor and Ziva straightened in surprise as Gibbs entered the elevator with empty hands.

"We thought you had gone to get coffee."

Gibbs shrugged. "Drank it on the way."

She frowned at him. "It does not cool that quickly, even in this weather."

He smiled faintly at her display of logic. "Had to talk to someone. Don't think she'll be sending her PIs after you again."

Ziva leaned against the wall again, smiling at him. "It has been a while since we have seen you flirt."

Gibbs glared. "And you're back to threatening DiNozzo, huh?"

Ziva shrugged. "You're reflecting."

"_De__flecting._"

"You admit it!" she waved a finger at him, smirking.

He shook his head, trying to hide a grin. "Ziva, this woman is after us. You should know better than anyone that sometimes a little flirtation can throw an enemy of their game."

Her eyes narrowed. "I do not buy it," she declared dryly. "You _like_ women who are a challenge, who are strong in the way that she is. If she were a redhead you'd already have showed her your boat."

Gibbs barked a laugh, but then his gaze steadied on Ziva and his tone grew serious. "All that aside, Ziva, she is looking into us. I don't need to tell you how many ways this team could be made vulnerable by someone who hates us."

Her amusement vanished. "My citizenship," Ziva breathed.

Gibbs nodded, flipping the elevator to a stop before the doors could open into the bullpen. The lights in the elevator switched to the emergency setting just as quickly as the mood of the conversation had. "If she or whoever she's working for find out we have an agent who doesn't technically meet the requirements of the agency..."

"Director Vance," Ziva began, but Gibbs shook his head.

"There would be nothing he could do. He's a politician and it's bad press. I'm not benching you, but be careful for the next few weeks. No traffic accidents, no Mossad death grips on prisoners," he gave her a pointed look when her expression grew indignant, "you know what I mean. Let's stay under the radar."

Ziva nodded grim agreement, and Gibbs turned the elevator back on.

As they stepped out into the bullpen, Ziva cocked her head and lightly offered an alternative. "Of course, if you just took her home and--"

"Showed her my boat?" Gibbs quipped.

Ziva shrugged with feigned innocence, then glanced toward her partner. "Showed Tony how it's done."

"Show Tony what?" Tony asked with a hint of agitation as he heard them coming.

Gibbs gave Ziva a look and they laughed together as they headed back to their desks.


	77. 7xx Technology

**Conversations**

This falls some time post-Ignition 7x11. Because does anyone really believe a man like Eli David has been dormant all this time?

* * *

Gibbs strode into the bullpen only to find Ziva smacking her computer upside the monitor with enough force to make it wobble.

"Ahh!" She loosed a cry of frustration.

"Pop-up ads?" he asked lightly as he passed her to take his seat.

Ziva snapped around to look at him, and Gibbs grew suddenly wary at the look on her face. She was agitated, anxious, like a caged animal. "Ziver?" he asked seriously.

Ziva shook herself. "I am fine."

He frowned, studying her.

The phone on Ziva's desk rang, and her eyes leapt to his in fear.

That did it. In two steps, Gibbs was at her desk, snatching her phone from its cradle. "NCIS," he snarled.

"Shalom," a woman's voice answered. "Anee--"

He hung up, cutting her off.

Ziva looked up at him from her chair, her eyes wide, a hint of a tremor in her hands where they clutched the desk.

"Who was that?" Gibbs demanded.

She looked away, deflecting.

"Ziver!" he said again, grabbing one of her shoulder.

Ziva pulled away and stood, pushing past him to pace. She glanced around the bullpen. People were trickling in. "Not here," she said softly.

Gibbs led her to the conference room without another word. Inside, he pointed to a chair. "Sit." He tried to soften his tone. She'd been through a lot. "Please."

She nodded and sat down, folding her hands in front of her on the table.

"Who was that?" he asked again, sitting opposite her.

Ziva looked up, taking a deep breath. "You know that Eli has been trying to...to get my attention."

Gibbs nodded warily.

"That was Michael's mother."

His eyes widened, his jaw hardening in fury.

"Through the miracles of technology he has given her ways to email me, to call me." Ziva squinched her eyes closed. "To send me pictures."

"Why." Gibbs' tone was deadly.

She shook her head, fighting the words. "To remind me that I work beside the man who killed her son, the people who nearly arrested him." She sighed. "The first time she called, I tried to explain about my father. She would hear none of it." Ziva met Gibbs' eyes forlornly. "How many people do we meet every day who are irrational with grief? I would not hurt her more. She is not ready to understand what happened, how Michael had changed."

Gibbs shook his head, his hands on the table clenching into fists. "McGee will find a way to block her calls."

Ziva shrugged.

He honed in on her uncertainty. "Unless you think she's right."

"It is not that exactly," Ziva said softly to her lap. She looked up sadly. "It is that she is right in a way. The loss of the son she knew, the young man I knew, _is_ a tragedy. But he was gone long before Tony shot him."

Gibbs nodded slowly, accepting her grief. "Okay. But there's no reason your father should let her torture you with that."

She flinched at the word and so did he.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes," Ziva said softly.

"We won't let him get you, Ziva," Gibbs promised.

Ziva shook her head in agreement but with a hint of fear still lining her brow. As she stood and left, Gibbs followed, frowning, worried that Eli's machinations were far from over.


	78. 7x12 Flesh and Blood

**Conversations**

Post ep! I just want to say that I deeply loved Flesh and Blood, and especially the justice the writers did Tony's character. Loved. He and his father have cameos in this chapter. I like this one, guys, I hope you do too. Also (this will make sense at the end) I have way too many GRE flashcards in my life right now. You might start seeing some really big words in these chapters soon.

* * *

Ziva took a deep breath and slowly exhaled through clenched teeth as she restrained herself from turning and tearing off the head of a certain prince who was critiquing her physical characteristics in excruciating detail to his guard. The chances he'd let something slip in Arabic were increasingly slim, but she knew better than to give away her tramp card.

She sighed again, this time in relief, as another guard waved Tony in the door. His eyes met hers in sympathy and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. She nodded in gratitude.

As she stepped into the hall and headed to the elevator, Ziva's phone rang and she snapped it open at once. "David."

"Ziver," Gibbs greeted her, his tone mild. "You mind stopping by on your way home?"

"By the office?"

"No, my place."

She shrugged. "Sure." She hung up and a thought flashed through her mind, the same one that had been distracting her all afternoon—what had he said to Tony's father?

And so, of course, when the elevator doors opened, there he was.

"Ms. David," he greeted her suavely.

Ziva could manage only a facsimile of a smile after her afternoon, but she pasted it on and stepped in beside him. She looked DiNozzo over. She was surprised to find that his facade was showing too; Ziva wondered if he was always this transparent or if her practice reading Tony somehow translated to his father.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her brow creasing.

DiNozzo turned to her warily. "It's been a bit of a day."

She nodded, waiting patiently.

He shook his head. "Your Gibbs seems to think I'm not much of a father. And Tony doesn't disagree."

Ziva shrugged. "Well..." she began lightly, reaching out to hit the button for the lobby.

DiNozzo raised his eyebrows. "Well what?"

"My father sent me on a suicide mission, so you don't have to worry about me judging you on your parenting." She said it pleasantly, surprised to find it stung far less than it used to.

DiNozzo laughed, then sobered abruptly when he realized she wasn't kidding. "You survived it?"

Ziva's face fell. Tony really didn't tell him anything, did he? She answered softly. "Tony, your son—he went on what was nearly a suicide mission of his own to come to Africa to avenge me. He saved my life." The admission was too intense and she looked away when she spoke, but when she looked up again DiNozzo was staring at her with the first genuine emotion she'd seen on his face.

"He's talked about you for years," DiNozzo said seriously. "I think he loves you."

Ziva took a long breath, met his eyes. "Perhaps. I don't know if he knows how to say those words."

Now DiNozzo looked chagrined again, though that hadn't been her intention. "I never did tell him much."

Ziva opened her mouth to apologize, but the elevator dinged and the doors opened. DiNozzo held the door with his arm and waved her out. "Don't worry about it." He waved her dismayed expression away with another imitation smile. "Good night, Ziva."

She smiled, as sincerely as she could. "Good night."

With another sigh, Ziva headed for her car.

*

Gibbs had felafel cooking on the stove as Ziva came in, and she laughed aloud at the memory of teaching him years ago.

"What brought this on?" she asked lightly.

He shrugged, answered mildly. "I gave a whole speech today about the importance of talking."

Ziva snorted at the irony. "To Tony's father?"

Gibbs nodded, then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he set out place. "Even told him about Kelly."

Ziva froze, intent. "Really?"

"Yep." His tone light again, Gibbs took out tumblers and poured drinks. Ziva accepted hers and sipped before she spoke again.

"I just saw him, as I was leaving the hotel. He did seem...effected."

"That with an a or an e?" Gibbs quipped.

Ziva smiled. "An e. I think."

He nodded. "Good."

She slipped into her chair, phrasing her next question lightly but delicately. "So you asked me here to talk or to adopt?"

Gibbs paused halfway to a glare, but answered with the calm he'd cultivated all afternoon. "Well, that would settle the citizenship thing once and for all."

She laughed. "You should have thought of that sooner. But have been studying for months now—I'm taking that test! There are too many flashcards in my life for me to take a shortcut."

The image many Gibbs laugh. "Need any help with that?" He served them both and sat down.

Ziva frowned in surprise, then shrugged. "Why not?"

"Good." He seemed faintly pleased, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

"What is it?" Ziva pressed curiously.

Gibbs shrugged. "Used to quiz Kelly on the state capitols. Pass the salt?"

Ziva passed it, smiling at his equanimity. "Alright, then. They're in my car. We can study after we eat."

As they ate, Gibbs glanced up at Ziva. Seeing Tony's father had only reminded him of what he'd known for a long time: his people came to him like refugees, just as he came to them. They all needed each other.


	79. 7x13 Jetlag

**Conversations**

For those of you who read my other Jetlag tag, I promise this is brighter! This chapter rests a little bit on a one-shot I wrote called "Rules One and Twelve." If you haven't read it, well, go on! But to summarize: when they find out about Ziva's death, a drunken Tony rants about the rules and Gibbs gives in a little.

Also, I fell on some ice earlier and now MY shoulder hurts. Grumble grumble.

* * *

"No, _with _the grain," Gibbs insisted.

Ziva turned to him with a glare. "You can always just wait until your shoulder heals to get this done."

Gibbs huffed and crossed the basement to take a swallow from his mug while Ziva kept working. He watched her back for a moment. "Paris is a romantic city," he said thoughtfully. Sure enough there was a telltale stiffening in Ziva's spine.

"So I've heard," she answered dryly, throwing the unspoken question back at him.

He took another swallow, pushing down a memory of Jenny writhing beneath him. They still sprang up against his will once in a while. He didn't take Ziva's bait. "So what did you and DiNozzo get up to?"

Ziva sighed with impatience and refused to dance around the issue further. "We got in late, and Tony was loopy from the sleeping pill he took for the plane. And we were tired enough that when we saw the one bed, Tony said it would be fine if we shared it. So we did."

"That's all there was to it?"

Ziva shrugged.

"Ziva?" His eyes narrowed.

She spun in place, facing him defensively, her tone insistent. "I slept with him, Gibbs. Sleeping." She looked away, forced to admit a secret. "I have not been sleeping well. I still have nightmares of last summer. And when I woke up with Tony, I had slept the whole night in peace. I felt awake for the first time in a long time." Her eyes darted back to Gibbs' in defiance. "We did nothing wrong, I will not apologize."

He smiled back in the face of her temerity. "Wouldn't let you if you tried," he answered lightly, taking another sip.

Ziva chuckled in spite of herself.

"Awkward morning after?" Gibbs added casually. His expression grew concerned when Ziva didn't joke back.

Instead she looked away. This was the incriminating part of the story, the part where she dodged out of the hotel room before Tony woke because laying there in his arms, every sense saturated with him, was intensely tempting. She could have just kissed him awake and--

"Or not so awkward?" Gibbs asked, his tone deeper.

She looked up again, glared. "He didn't touch me. Nor I him."

"Did you want him to?" Gibbs returned at once.

Ziva's mouth fell open in shock. "Gibbs!"

He nodded, taking her failure to deny it for the admission it was. "You know," Gibbs said, setting down his bourbon pulling off his sling before reaching out to take the sander from her, "Paris changed my relationship with Jenny forever." He began to slide the sander along the wood, slowly enough that his shoulder was just dully aching. "I made a whole set of rules to be sure I never got hurt like that again."

Ziva watched him warily. "I know."

Gibbs glanced at her. "DiNozzo was over here, last summer." He watched as her entire posture changed, adrenaline making her fidget at the reminder. He straightened, spoke calmly. "He thought you were dead. Yelled at me for rules he didn't like."

Her eyes searched his face, trying to find meaning in what he was saying.

"Made me admit some of them had done you both more harm than good."

Ziva went from agitated to frozen in a moment, transfixed as she processed what Gibbs was saying.

Gibbs went back to sanding. "We all have regrets, Ziva. Once in a while you get to avoid them. To say what you want to say before you lose the chance to say it."

"What do you think I should do?" she whispered, uncertain.

He shrugged and pointed to the workbench. "Grab another one of these, there's a whole section on the other side that still has to be done."

Ziva wordlessly complied. Her mind spun with thoughts of what might still happen, and if he noticed her sander wandering poorly along the hull, Gibbs didn't say anything.


	80. 7x14 Masquerade A

**Conversations**

A little wish-fulfillment about the ending of the last episode for you...hopefully canon won't turn out to contradict this! Also, due to your requests and my own writerly impulses, there will in fact be a spin-off from chapter 79 about Jet Lag coming in the next day or two. Stay tuned! There's a brief reference in here to the Ignition chapter.

* * *

"Gibbs?" Ziva called out as she let herself in. She glanced around for him. The lights were all off downstairs, so she crossed to the basement door. There was darkness below as well, so Ziva shrugged and descended. Since her return in the fall they'd fallen into a pattern of spending a few nights a week in quiet companionship. Tonight he was probably stopping for groceries and would arrive sooner or later. Ziva dismissed the thought and flipped on the light on Gibbs' work bench, quietly choosing a sanding tool and getting to work.

Footsteps upstairs alerted her to Gibbs' arrival twenty minutes later, but Ziva continued. After three minutes, though, she frowned at the boat and glanced up the stairs. It could be difficult for him to carry groceries with the sling, and he wouldn't ask for help. She rolled her eyes and set down the tool, skipping lightly up the steps.

Just as she reached the top, Ziva's spy sense tingled. Why were the downstairs lights still off? She peeked through the crack between the door and door-frame and caught sight of someone moving in the dimness of the living room. Drawing her gun, Ziva was preparing to step into the room when she heard the front door knob turn.

Ziva retreated behind the basement door, ready to provide backup when Gibbs needed it. The lights came on. She silenced a gasp as she heard a woman answer Gibbs—the counselor who'd been on their case for weeks. Ziva frowned, listening to Gibbs flirting with her with a sinking sense of worry. It was all she could do not to yell out in protest as she saw her boss lean toward the lawyer.

They kissed. Ziva looked on in horror as Gibbs pressed his lips fiercely to Hart's. But just as quickly, he pulled back. Ziva nearly gasped again in relief at his next words.

"I imagine we could never be in the same court room after that," Gibbs said roughly. "One of us might bring up this indiscretion."

Hart reared back in alarm, enough shock in her face that Ziva believed she hadn't been manipulating Gibbs as he had her. Slowly the lawyer straightened her back and hardened her expression. "I imagine not, Agent Gibbs," she said coldly. Without another word, she let herself out.

Gibbs crossed to the door to watch her walk to her car. Without turning, he spoke. "You can come out now, Ziva."

She holstered her gun and stepped around the door with a short laugh. "I am glad to know that was a jest, Gibbs."

He turned to her with his eyebrows raised. "You were the one who suggested I show her my boat, Agent David."

Ziva shook her head, smiling. "All the same, the last thing our dysfunctional little family needs is a wicked step-mother."

Gibbs shrugged as he crossed to the kitchen and began setting out ingredients for dinner. "Well, maybe Tony would finally feel completely at home." He grinned at Ziva as she laughed. "Never fear, Ziver. She ceased to be attractive just as soon as she put my team in jeopardy."

Ziva nodded more seriously. "Good," she pronounced, spinning the cans Gibbs had taken down to face her. "What's for dinner?"


	81. 7x14 Masquerade B

**Conversations**

So, usually I rewatch episodes before I write about them, but the last chapter (about Hart and Gibbs) sprang to mind so quickly that I didn't go back and watch Masquerade again until later. At which time I promptly shook my fist at myself for missing another prime topic of conversation. So you get another chapter! This follows a few minutes after chapter 80; think of them as part 1 and part 2 of the same scene, if you like. Enjoy...

* * *

Gibbs watched Ziva as she stared down into her spaghetti. He'd spent enough time with her over the years to know when something was on her mind.

"Are you still worried about Allison Hart?" he asked gruffly, not stopping to ask _if _something was bothering her when he knew it was.

Ziva looked up and skipped over his question to pose one of her own. "Do you know how much training I have had at defusing bombs?"

Gibbs' stomach sank. He tried not to let it read in his face. "Had to read your resume, Agent. What was it, three years of training while you were in the army?"

"And plenty of practice in the field," she confirmed.

He nodded once, took a big bite.

"Yet you took McGee into that building with you today, and had the bomb not been faulty you would both have died."

He closed his eyes, hating the reminder. He'd put it out of his head all evening, but Gibbs knew he'd made the wrong call. He swallowed. "You think I should have taken you in there," he stated calmly, looking up. It caught him off-guard how distraught Ziva's eyes were.

"I would have known which wire to cut. How could you not want me there?" All the emotion she'd tried to contain before was filling her voice now.

Gibbs sighed. The answer rested heavily in his chest. "How could I put you in more danger?"

The words trembled in the air. Gibbs knew he was on dangerous ground, was taking a father's prerogative by protecting her.

Ziva's mouth fell open in surprise.

"We should have run, I shouldn't have been stubborn about that," he continued in a rush, filling the silence. "I shouldn't have risked putting McGee in danger."

Ziva shook her head no.

"You...if anything had happened..." He finally said it straight out. "We couldn't lose you again."

Her eyes were wide in wonder. He'd told her this before, or something like it, but the depth of their love for her always took Ziva by surprise. She shook her head. "And you think we'd survive losing you or McGee?" Ziva put it in the simplest terms. "Can you imagine Abby at your funeral? Can you imagine Tony?" Tears pricked her eyes at the image she evoked. She couldn't tell through the blurriness if she caught sight of tears in Gibbs' eyes as well. "Or me?" she whispered. "You were injured last week, but it could have been worse."

Gibbs' face creased with emotion as she spoke. He had a flash of Kelly throwing her arms around him, pleading with him not to go into danger. He shrugged it off. "What should we do? Never take another case?"

Ziva blinked quickly. "No. But when I am the one who can keep us the safest, let me do it."

With a nod, he accepted her words.

"And if the building's clear, _run_," she added emphatically.

A snort of humor escaped as Gibbs reached for another bite. "Might have make that a rule," he said drily, and he watched with relief as Ziva burst out laughing.

They finished dinner on lighter topics, but as Ziva put the last dish away and headed for the door, Gibbs pulled her into a silent hug, kissed her forehead. "Rule 63," he said into her hair. "Don't be foolhardy in a dangerous situation."

Ziva looked up, nodding affirmation. "Rule 63."


	82. 7x15 Jack Knife

**Conversations**

For those of you reading _Making Exceptions,_ the spin-off from this story (and if you haven't, go check it out!) just note that the events of that story are not happening in this one. This chapter is based only on what we know from canon and my extrapolations. We're picking up right after Jack Knife (7x15).

* * *

Ziva frowned down at the top of the dresser. Her polishing seemed to have only ground in the layers of dust. She shrugged and sprayed on more wood cleaner.

When the dresser was finally finished, she turned and surveyed the room. Her efforts had finally converted it from a wood storage space back into a spare bedroom. Ziva nodded to herself, pleased. When she'd gone too far in mocking the building of boats by hand the week before, Gibbs had told her there were plenty of other household chores she could help out with instead. She'd known he was mostly kidding, but she'd taken it as a challenge. Plus it had gotten her away from the god forsaken boat. She didn't mind this work; it had its own sense of purpose, of accomplishment. Gibbs had reported McGee's compliments on the cleanliness of the first floor and she'd laughed.

Gibbs' footsteps sounded on the stairs and Ziva waited, still facing into the room, ready to show off her handiwork.

_Smack_. His hand connected with her head.

"Gibbs!" Ziva protested, whirling.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he snarled.

Ziva stepped back quickly, her head still throbbing faintly. He hadn't head-slapped her since her return.

"What was rule 63?" he demanded.

Now she flinched, understanding. "Don't be foolish in a dangerous situation," she recited softly.

"Oughta make you write lines," Gibbs sneered. "We watched the footage from our camera in the cab. What were you thinking standing in front of that truck?"

Ziva looked away, uncomfortable answering.

"David," Gibbs ordered.

She met his eyes, swallowed hard.

Gibbs saw the fear in her expression and gestured swiftly for her to sit on the bed. Ziva took a seat, pressing her hands together between her knees. Suddenly aware of his interrogatory posture, Gibbs sat down beside her. "Why did you do it, Ziver?" he asked.

She took a slow breath. "Even now, most of the time...I feel numb. Like things are happening around me and I'm a split second behind, slightly disconnected."

He nodded. "Pretty normal after what you've been through."

Ziva shrugged. Her eyes lit up almost eerily, the same expression he'd seen fading from her face when they'd busted the hijackers. "Standing in front of the truck, all that adrenaline—it was the most alive I've felt in a long time."

"Doesn't mean you get to take unnecessary risks," Gibbs told her harshly.

She paused, then nodded.

Gibbs frowned, looking around the room and taking it in for the first time. "Looks like a room again."

Ziva smiled faintly. Then she turned and looked him over, grew concerned at the sight. "Where is your sling?"

He looked at her sideways. "Haven't picked up McGee's belief that I saved you and now you have to take care of me, have you?"

Now she grinned. "Your house would be far cleaner if I had."

Gibbs snorted and rose. "Had to have my right hand free for smacking sense into you."

Ziva sighed as she followed him down the stairs. The excitement of the truck barreling toward her was still at the forefront of her mind. It wasn't that she had wanted to die, it was that knowing she might suddenly showed her that she didn't. But this life, the numb existence she had become accustomed to, wasn't the life she wanted either.

"How did you get over it?" she asked softly as they reached the basement. She settled herself on the bottom steps and watched Gibbs pour them a drink.

"Get over what?" he asked, passing Ziva her jar and taking a swig of her own.

"This feeling." Ziva tried to explain. "Like you were disconnected from your life."

Gibbs swirled the bourbon in his glass, remembering the year after he lost Shannon and Kelly. "Found a purpose for myself, eventually," he answered. He chose a sander and began to work, waiting for Ziva to respond.

"Revenge?" she guessed.

He smiled slightly. "Nope. I joined the Naval Investigative Service."

Ziva nodded. "I already did that."

"And I pulled some dangerous stunts and Franks and the rest of the agents around me were furious enough that I knew they cared. And after a while they became a new sort of family, and my new life became a real life. Took time, though." Gibbs surprised himself as he spoke. He'd never thought it out so clearly before.

"So keep trying," Ziva summarized.

Gibbs turned to look at her. "There's more help out there if you want it, Ziver. But yeah. Don't give up on us." When she didn't reply he went back to work. After a moment, noises behind him made Gibbs turn. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Ziva smiled. "Cleaning the shelves. That's what's next."


	83. 7x16 Mother's Day

**Conversations**

Sorry to be gone so long! This relies heavily on knowledge of Mother's Day (7x16); I don't really spell out the ending of the episode, so if you haven't seen it, go watch it and come back. Please let me know if you like it!

* * *

Gibbs was hard at work when Ziva showed up, eagerly fitting the wood of the interior of the boat together after his physical therapy-enforced hiatus. "Was wondering when you'd get here," he said lightly.

She took a seat at the bottom of the stairs, watching him seriously. "You had never mentioned her when you spoke of Shannon."

He shrugged. "When I first knew her, she lived in a town not far from Stillwater." His eyes followed his hands. "I'd lost my mom young. And when I met Shannon, we were still kids. Just eighteen." Gibbs glanced up at Ziva. "Joanne practically raised me too." He turned back to his work. "Those first years, when I was in training and Shan was in college, I'd go there on leave instead of to see Jackson."

Ziva nodded silently.

He frowned, bracing for a difficult admission. "We fell out when I took Shannon and Kelly away from her. Joanne raged at me. But it felt a little like losing my mom again."

She watched him, anguish in her eyes, too caught up in her own emotions to feel sympathy.

Gibbs looked up and mistook her expression. "It's been years, Ziva. At least we got to clear some things up now."

Ziva frowned, then spoke softly. "When I was a little girl, very little, my father was not yet of high rank in Mossad. He was an operative, and until I was six it was his job to locate and eliminate Nazis in hiding in Europe."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in surprise at the seeming non sequitur. "Ziver?"

"I was raised to believe that vengeful killing was justified, Gibbs. I killed one of the men who was responsible for my sister's death with my bare hands."

He shrugged in tacit approval.

She watched him dolefully as she spoke. "Some people deserved to be murdered. That was the lesson my father taught me. And I learned it. Wholeheartedly." She paused for a moment. "And then he told me to kill my brother. And even when I stood _right here_, looking at his body, I believed that some people simply deserved it. That his actions had earned him death." Ziva looked up imploringly into Gibbs' face. "But _you_ taught me otherwise. _You _made me see that justice can be had in many ways. It took that whole first year, but I finally understood that people can change, that if there is any chance for punishment within the law, lives should not be taken."

Gibbs stared into her face for a long moment, his eyes hardening. "You knew when Franks killed the men who'd brought Amira and her mother here. You didn't want me to arrest him."

She shook her head. "That was different."

"Why?" he demanded, irritable.

Ziva sighed, trying to find the words. "Because since then I have come to understand more of the world. My own death warrant was signed. And the person I was then is gone as surely as if my father had put a bullet between my eyes."

"You think I should arrest Joanne? And then maybe you and I could arrest each other?" His tone was harsh.

She frowned, her lips pursed. "I think that in this country, murder is a crime. I understand exactly what Joanne did, I sympathize. But it was wrong. And I know that you and I are sworn to uphold the laws of this country. Regardless of who breaks them."

"She was my mother!" Gibbs snarled.

"He was my brother!" Ziva snapped back, every muscle in her body tight with suppressed emotion. She took a deep breath. "And I was not asking you to kill her."

Gibbs slumped down beside her on the cold concrete floor, drained of his anger by the memory of Ziva's eyes as she prayed for the brother who had in one moment broken her heart and forced her hand.

Ziva gave a single bark of a laugh. "I really believed that you were the antithesis of my father. His opposite, a man with inflexible morals." Her breath caught. "But you are the same."

Her words stabbed through him. "_Ziver._" He begged for forgiveness with a single word.

She turned to him, her eyes desperately, disappointedly sad.

Gibbs voice grew gruff as he tried to defend himself. "I have a code that says that when people kill the people you love, you avenge them."

Ziva nodded wearily, then winced in self-judgment. "And I should have known that, all this time. You did not spare a moment for months from your search for Ari." She looked away, down at her hands. "After I killed him...I wanted to live in a world where there was forgiveness, where justice took long enough that you could heal your soul from the evil you had done." She whispered her last words: "I thought your world was like that. But I only wanted it to be." Ziva slid off the step, hugging her arms over the coat she had never taken off. She looked down at him as Gibbs began to rise and held up her hand. "Not right now, Gibbs. I—Just don't." Turning, she quietly climbed the steps and let herself out.

Gibbs' chest ached with the tears that had been standing in Ziva's eyes as she left. He remembered the way she had spoken of her father after her return: with hatred, with bitterness, with pain. _You are the same_, she had said. And what was worse, in the face of her argument he could hardly tell her she was wrong.


	84. 7x16 Mother's Day II

**Conversations**

To begin with, I was amazed by your feedback to the last part of this story, and I'm sorry I didn't have time to write you all back individually. It's taken me a long time to follow up on the last chapter, mostly because I was hoping there would be some sort of consequences on the show that would point me in the right direction. But it seems there won't be, at least in the immediate future. So rather than stray too far from canon, which I've tried not to do here, I've attempted some resolution. If anyone has other ideas, please let me know!

I also wrote an extended version of the previous chapter into my story _Making Mistakes—_it's chapter 5. There's TIVA in that story, but you could probably figure it out without reading all the earlier parts. And that one's totally a-canonical, so the Ziva/Gibbs rift will probably get more serious than it does here.

* * *

It wasn't unusual for him to get only a few hours of sleep, but tonight Jethro deliberately avoided going up to his bedroom. He had invoked Shannon today, had been sure that when he let Joanne go, Shannon was pleased with him somewhere, was proud.

Ziva had shattered that surety. Even when her mother resisted it, Shannon knew how much his service meant to him, how much his country meant to him. He could see in her eyes when he spoke about it that she loved him for it. He had betrayed that today in her name, and now that he'd been forced to see it, he couldn't walk up those stairs and face her.

All the same, Jethro didn't know what else he could have done. Joanne had taught him how to change his daughter's diapers when he was still afraid to pick her up; he couldn't send her to prison in her old age. And besides, the moment that he'd learned of Shannon and Kelly's deaths, he'd known that they meant more to him than the law, than any country. He had not thought twice about taking vengeance for their deaths. But had he betrayed them even then?

He'd have to figure that out later. As he sawed and hammered and sanded, the thoughts that chased each other through his mind were of Ziva. She loved so deeply. She had committed herself to her country because of her love for her father, her brother. Jethro knew that if she hadn't met such terrible betrayal at their hands, she would have been more like him. Would have placed her loyalty to her family above all else, as she had when Tali died.

Ziva had given _him _that sort of loyalty. She had let him in so slowly, had had to let down so many walls. He hated that he'd given her one more reason not to trust anyone.

Jethro wasn't sure where all that left him. But it played in his head all night long as he fought back sleep with bitterly strong coffee, until at last the rays of light filtering in through the basement window alerted him to the fact that it was nearly time for work.

Yawning as he reached, Jethro dug his cellphone out of his coat pocket.

"Vance," a voice answered abruptly.

"It's Gibbs. I'm sick, I need the day," Jethro said shortly.

Vance paused. "Is something going on with you and David that I should know about?"

Jethro tensed. "Sir?"

"She called in sick, too."

He raised his eyebrows but kept his tone calm. "Must be the same thing." He cleared his throat for good measure.

"Fine. Let me know later if you'll be back tomorrow or not."

"Sure."

Vance hung up.

Jethro pondered the cellphone in his hand. It was worse than he'd thought. She could contain her feelings better than anyone he knew, yet she'd called in sick. He wasn't sure she'd ever actually taken a day off to be sick.

*

Ziva opened the door wide at his knock, then nearly slammed it shut. Jethro took a step forward just in time to block the door from closing more than halfway, met her gaze until she let go of the handle and backed up warily into her apartment.

"Vance told me you were taking the day, too," Jethro said, keeping his tone calm as he would around a skittish animal.

"What do you want?" Ziva asked coldly.

He eased the door closed behind him and stepped slowly toward her, his hands raised slightly in a peaceful gesture. "I thought about what you said. I want to talk to you."

She glanced away. "I needed some time to myself, to make sense of all of this. I would rather see you tomorrow."

"Well can I at least tell you what makes sense to me?"

Ziva looked back toward him, and Jethro could see the tension in her eyes between wanting to let him make everything better and not wanting to rely on him again. When she didn't speak, he moved cautiously further into the apartment.

He was relieved when she sat back against the arm of the couch, her body no longer coiled to pounce. "Look, Ziva, I won't tell you you're wrong, but this isn't just about me."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Jethro cut her off.

"You're fighting with everything you have not to be like them, Ziva. Like Salim, like your father. Men who believe that they alone can decide what justice is. You think they're evil for that, and you're not wrong, but it isn't the power or willingness to kill that makes you evil. It's who you kill. And I believe with every fiber of my being that everyone I have killed or whose death I have, as you said, _condoned_, was someone who had passed that line into evil." He paused. "And I think that deep down, you believe that too."

"But it is not our place to decide what evil is, what justice is!" Ziva finally snapped.

Jethro shook his head, keeping calm. "It's everyone's place, Ziva. You let your father and your country define your moral compass, and now you're rushing to replace him and Israel with me and America. But you have to define morality for yourself. We're expected to uphold the laws at work, and there I can see why you're upset, but as people we have to make our own decisions about right and wrong."

She met his eyes defiantly. "And if I judge you to be evil?"

His breath caught in his chest. "I can't stop you." He waited, hoping for more from her, but she didn't speak. He'd used up all he planned to say, so Jethro just stepped closer to her, deliberately set his hands on her shoulders and pulled her stiffly against him. He pressed his mouth into her hair as he murmured, "I'm sorry, Ziva, that I didn't live up to your expectations."

The change in her body was instant. Her arms which had been rigid at her sides a moment ago were suddenly clinging to him. Jethro sighed silently in relief as he pulled her harder against him. He'd never made as sincere an apology, or one as effective.

"What I said about forgiveness," Ziva said abruptly, pulling back, "about healing." She met his eyes willingly now. "I have not changed my mind. Joanne may deserve a chance to repent taking a life, but the man she killed deserved a chance, too."

"Some people will never change," Jethro said, shaking his head.

Ziva pursed her lips. "We cannot ever really know each other. I do not really know you. How can we know who will change?"

More than anything else she'd said, those words went straight through him. How many people had he killed over the years, who might have done something else if they'd lived? He doubted there were many, but if there were... "You're right," he said slowly, the words twisting his heart along with his lips. "You're right," he whispered again, meeting Ziva's eyes, finding matching torture. Was this the knowledge she'd lived with since Ari?

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "We can all become better," she said firmly, returning the lesson he'd taught her over and over through the years without ever seeing the inevitable conclusions for himself. "We can make better choices."

Gibbs nodded against her temple. "The American Dream," he said ironically.

Ziva leaned back to look up at him. "I am not choosing blind loyalty to your country. I believe in it."

And he believed her. "I'll try," Jethro said, his voice rough with emotion.

She smiled at him, then leaned up to whisper in his ear. "I take it back. You are not the same."

He held her tightly.


	85. 7x17 Double Identity

**Conversations**

I'm glad you all liked the last chapter! Now we're going to pretend, as the show does, that they're friends again. At least for now. This chapter is for Double Identity, 7x17.

**______________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**

"I will tell him," Ziva said again, and closed the door to the lab quickly behind her. Her heart was pounding as she walked down the hall, the sound of Abby crying still reaching her ears. The elevator came at once and Ziva was relieved.

When the doors opened on the bullpen the lights were dim; the glow of a lamp created an island of light around Gibbs' desk. Ziva walked quickly toward it, stopped in front him as Gibbs looked up at her questioningly.

"I know you are not concerned about Ducky's ties, but Abby and I are. We did a bit of...research." She flinched, used to bearing bad news but not to him. "We found his mother's obituary in the paper. From nearly a month ago."

Gibbs face was transformed by alarm and sympathy. "Why wouldn't he--?"

Ziva shrugged delicately. "I do not know."

He nodded to himself, trying to process it, then glanced up. "So where's Abbs?"

"In her lab. She...was crying when I left."

His eyebrows shot up.

"I did not know how to comfort her," Ziva said defensively. "I am sorry, but I do not feel what she feels."

Gibbs tilted his head. "You obviously care about Duck."

Now Ziva shook hers. "Not about that. I feel sympathy for him, of course, but..." she looked away, ashamed of her feelings. "I have seen so many people die before their time. Ducky's mother lived a very long and full life," she met Gibbs' eyes again. "I do not feel the same grief Abby does."

Gibbs studied his desk for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. "I know what you mean," he said softly. "And I bet that's why he hasn't told us."

"Why?"

Gibbs shrugged, looking up at her. "He was fortunate. He got to have his mother his whole life, and you and Tony and I lost ours. We've lost a lot of people." He stared straight into Ziva's eyes and didn't miss her flinch.

And those we didn't lose, we walked away from," she added.

He watched her thoughtfully for a moment. "I don't know," he said slowly. "The man, today—he changed his whole identity. We could do that, we have the connections. You even more than me. But we haven't gone so far that our families couldn't find us again."

Ziva smiled faintly. "I almost did once," she said, eyes gazing away into memory.

"When?" Gibbs asked sharply.

She pursed her lips. "After Ari."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What happened?"

Ziva hesitated, remembering another grief, then told the story. "I had just begun to plan it out in my mind—how to get papers, where to travel to—when Jenny called. Besides you, she was the only one who knew the truth. She called to check on me, and I asked her for help." Ziva smiled fondly. "She gave me a little speech about not running away from your problems, and convinced me to come here. To let her help me in a different way than I'd planned."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "She was hardly one to talk."

Ziva shook her head adamantly. "She'd learned, from what happened with you." Her voice faltered. "Though perhaps it would have been better if I had escaped my father then. Before...everything."

He nodded with a sigh, then glanced toward the elevator. "Well, Ducky may have been lucky but we both know how lonely he is now." He closed his eyes. "He should still have told me."

Ziva hesitated, remembering all the secrets Gibbs had kept. "He certainly needs friends now," she said, her eyes darkening at the memory of watching her mother's coffin lowered into the ground.

"I'll talk to him," Gibbs promised firmly.

Ziva nodded. "Alright." She turned to gather her things.

"Ziver," Gibbs added.

She turned.

"He's lucky you two care about him."

She smiled gently. "You are an investigator, Gibbs. All you need to do it watch his ties."

He laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."


	86. 7x20 Moonlighting

**Conversations**

Hey, guys! I know it's been awhile. I blame it on the lags between episodes and the episodes themselves not being, you know, good. Certainly not as good as this show is capable of. But that's another topic. This chapter follows 7x20 Moonlighting, and has a bit more political philosophy to it than I should probably be writing when I'm this sleepy. But let me know what you think!

Gibbs weighed the cell phone in his hand. It had been nearly two months since he'd let Joanne off the hook for murder, and for all that time Ziva had been distant. She'd come to him, sure, when Ducky's mother died, but then she hadn't had a word to spare about his female alter-ego from the Coast Guard—something even Ducky had remarked upon.

He threw the phone up in the air and caught it. Hell, he'd been talked into having dinner with a madam, just for the company. Gibbs' fingers clenched around the plastic. At least these things were indestructible.

Sighing, he flipped it open. She was literally the only one who could help with this.

"David," Ziva answered quickly.

He let out a long, slow breath, trying to think of the words.

"Gibbs?' she asked after a moment.

He snorted. "Yeah."

Ziva waited.

"Can you come over?" Gibbs finally asked gruffly. He almost felt her frown.

"Sure," Ziva said slowly. "I will be there soon."

He hung up without saying goodbye and threw the phone on the couch. Taking the lighter from his mantel, Gibbs knelt to light the fireplace. He'd already apologized, but steak never hurt.

The meal was nearly ready when Ziva knocked once before letting herself inside.

"Gibbs?" she asked, more nervous in person than she had been on the phone.

He waved toward the couch. "Sit."

She hesitated, still on her feet. "Why did you want me to come here?"

Gibbs looked up, caught the tension in her stance, and sighed. "Are you still angry at me, Ziva?"

She pursed her lips. "You arrested that woman today, that judge."

He shrugged. "Well, sure."

She cocked her head, irritation written plainly on her face. "She took justice into her own hands. Made her own judgments. Does that not sound familiar?"

Gibbs started in surprise. "Didn't think of it that way."

Ziva winced. "I thought about what you said. About how we have to define justice for ourselves, and not depend on a country to do it for us. But I was studying earlier, when you called—John Locke, who was the first writer of the ideals that are in your declaration of independence, believed that a country is a social contract. Your country is a group of people who agree to believe the same things about right and wrong!"

"Or start a revolution," Gibbs added, aiming for lightness.

"This is not a revolution!" Ziva snapped. "You Americans have forgotten that! You have taken pluralism past the point where most citizens are even aware of the contract they have entered into!"

Gibbs shook his head, confused how they had come to this. "Well, I haven't been studying too much American history, Ziva, and maybe you're right, but I have to think there's a distinction between Joanne, a lone citizen, and a woman who has been elected to uphold laws."

She snorted softly. "You have been hired to uphold laws."

Gibbs drew back. "So you are still angry with me."

Ziva looked away, then shook her head. "I do not want to fight with you. But...I do not agree with you either, with your choice to prosecute discriminately."

He nodded slowly. "Then you may not like why I asked you here tonight."

Ziva's eyes leapt to his at once, narrowing as Gibbs turned away to serve their food. "What do you need?"

He sat down, gesturing again for her to sit. This time Ziva did. "I need you to teach me to beat a polygraph."

She frowned at him, a hint of worry in her eyes. "What did they ask you?"

"Made it as far as 'Have you ever committed a felony?' and dodged it by claiming a gut feeling about the judge that I wasn't even too sure of."

"And you think they'll try to polygraph you again?"

Gibbs looked away. "I may trust Vance more now, but I still don't need anyone knowing all my secrets." He winced. "Anyone but you."

Ziva nodded. "It won't be a problem. There is no real science to a polygraph. The tricks are not complicated."

An idea occurred to him. Gibbs' voice was thoughtful as he turned to her. "What if you're just helping me perpetuate my personal sense justice at the expense of the larger one you're so fond of?" He kept his tone bordering on sarcastic, but he waited for a serious answer.

She gave him an exasperated glare. "That is philosophy. It matters to countries. This, life, matters to you and me." Ziva hesitated. "And you do not fit into the American justice system. Anywhere."

"So maybe it's flawed?" He took a bite of steak.

"Or you are," Ziva tossed off, smirking when Gibbs found his mouth too full to answer quickly.

"Pity I made a whole life out of it, then," Gibbs finally managed.

Ziva studied him unnervingly. "It is odd," she finally murmured, and tucked into her meal.

He didn't have the words to explain himself, so Gibbs shrugged and turned to his own food. "What the biggest lie you've ever gotten away with on a polygraph test?"

Ziva tilted her head back, laughing as the answer occurred to her.

Gibbs grinned, waiting for the story. He wasn't sure how, but that peal of laughter more than anything else told him they'd get through this.


	87. 7x22 Borderland

**Conversations**

I may go back later and write a chapter for Obsession, but for now I've been drawn into fleshing out the finale episodes. This picks up on the last two minutes of _Borderland_, which I thought were two of the best minutes of the season. Finally, someone thinks critically about Gibbs' actions! (That was an ironic exclamation point.)

* * *

Ziva paused at the top of the stairs when she heard voices drifting up from below.

_Do you realize the situation that I'm in now? _

Abby's voice. Not what she was expecting.

_ I know._

_ Do you understand the choice that I have to make now?_

_I know._

_ Stop saying I know! _

Ziva gasped in shock at Abby's tone. A chill was running through her now. Something was seriously wrong. She pulled back into the shadow behind the door, still listening.

_What I need to know, Gibbs, is if you're gonna love me no matter what._

Gibbs was silent for so long that Ziva nearly burst into the room herself to demand an answer. Finally his voice rang out through the silence of the house.

_No matter what, Abby._

The scientist let out a soft sob.

Ziva could hear Gibbs walk across the basement to her.

_ You are like a daughter to me, Abbs. Like family._

Abby answered slowly. _And so if someone did something to me...you'd take them out._

He paused. _Yes_.

Her footsteps moved away from him. _I guess I always knew that. I mean, with Kate and Ari and everything._

_It wasn't cold blooded, Abby._

_What?_

_ With Hernandez. It might have been weeks later, but—you didn't know me then. My blood didn't cool down from the moment I woke from a coma to find Shan and Kelly dead until about a week after I got back from Mexico._

She moved back toward him.

_I was younger than you are now. Only a little older than Kelly would have been._

Abby paused, hugging him, Ziva imagined. _I love you no matter what, too, Gibbs,_ she said at last. _But I think I'd better go._

Ziva withdrew into the bathroom as she heard Abby ascending the stairs. But once the front door had closed behind her, Ziva wasn't sure what to do. Eventually she went into the kitchen, began to set up the coffee pot from force of habit.

She turned at the sound of a step behind her and found Gibbs, a full jar sloshing in his hand.

"You heard?"

She nodded. "The end of your conversation, anyway."

"Abby found evidence when she was in Mexico. Found out what happened."

Ziva poured him a cup of coffee, took the jar from his hand without asking. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, then went on.

"I didn't live up to her expectations," he said softly.

She flinched in sympathy.

"You said something not too different to me a while back."

Ziva swallowed hard.

"You said I rely on my own sense of justice instead of the one we've sworn to uphold."

"I remember."

"Abby—" He leaned against the counter and met her eyes, his own swirling with emotion. "She knew. She knew through the evidence, the surest thing in the world to her, but she would have ignored that if I asked. But she also—" He closed his eyes. "She was sad and confused but not surprised. It never occurred to her not to believe it."

Silence fell over the room.

After a moment Gibbs opened his eyes in his own confusion. "Why is it worse with her than you?"

Ziva smiled softly. "Abby may be older than I am, but she has experienced far less of the world you and I have lived in. She believes in hope and pigtails and Santa Claus."

"And crossing her fingers," he murmured, looking away. Then he met Ziva's gaze bleakly. "Have I taken that from her?"

Ziva shook her head. "I don't think anyone could take that from Abby."

"You didn't see the look in her eyes."

She realized there were tears on his cheeks. "Is this so bad?" she asked, a little stunned at his display of emotion.

Gibbs wiped away the moisture impatiently. "She said something about how she's been like my daughter."

Ziva smiled reflexively. "She has."

"Is this how Kelly would have reacted?" Gibbs demanded. "Would she have been so disappointed, too, to know that I was the sort of man who could do this?" He met her eyes, haunted. "You try to give your children the best of you, Ziva. To show them your best self. To teach them about the way you wish the world worked."

"And yet we are rarely our best," Ziva offered sadly. "We all learn the truth about our parents sooner or later. If Kelly had lived, you would have someday have had this moment with her, too."

He sighed, deflated, nodded. "Yeah."

"For now, though," Ziva redirected him, "we need to figure out who is doing this. The statute of limitations has run out on the crime, so whoever is starting this is not relying on the law."

"Like me?" he quipped derisively.

Ziva frowned at him. "It may not be best of you, but your knowledge of both sides of the law may well save your life now, Gibbs."

He nodded once. "Okay, then. Let's see if we can save it without doing anything else wrong."


	88. 7x23 Patriot Down I

**Conversations**

So, Patriot Down had essentially two plots, and therefore it will be addressed over two chapters. This one is Ziva-centric and is actually almost two different conversations all on its own! There may be a hint of sappiness at the end, but that will be compensated for in the upcoming chapters, I'm pretty sure...

PS I'm writing this in lieu of studying for the GRE which I'm taking in roughly 36 hours, so I'll try to throw some big words in there. Hopefully no neologisms or malapropisms. :) (Alas, those are words I already knew, not the ones I should be studying...)

* * *

For once he was waiting outside the elevator instead of in it. Gibbs paced in front of the heavy doors. Abby had called to tell him: Kaylin Burroughs had been raped. He'd flinched, glad she was telling him over the phone and couldn't see his reaction. Not because of the case, they'd had enough of them before that he was inured if not impervious, but because she'd already told Tony. And Ziva.

The sound of the elevator approaching drew his attention, and Gibbs snapped to attention as the doors opened.

"Boss!" Tony almost stumbled in surprise as he stopped himself from crashing into Gibbs. The young woman behind him looked jittery, but not nearly as much as Ziva did when Gibbs caught her eye.

"Take the sailor to interrogation one, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered without looking away from Ziva.

"Boss?" Tony asked hesitantly. When Gibbs didn't answer, he shrugged and drew Kaylin away.

Ziva stepped to the side to allow Gibbs to join her in the elevator, but he jerked his head left instead, led her away from the cramped space and down the hallway to the windows that looked out over the river.

"Abby told you what happened to Burroughs?" he asked abruptly.

Ziva's eyes drifted over the scene outside. "Yes," she murmured.

Gibbs sighed, aching at the forlorn look in her eyes, at the memory of a time when that was the only expression she had. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to get her attention. "Look, someone needs to talk to Kaylin," he said gruffly.

She nodded, her eyes growing more haunted by the second.

Gibbs flinched. "You're the obvious choice to do it, a woman, someone who won't seem threatening to her-"

Ziva grinned mirthlessly. "If only she knew?"

"No." He shook his head firmly. "I just meant—I'd understand if you didn't want to do it."

Her eyes fell. "Are you sure we have to interrogate her?"

He nodded grimly. "We need to know if she knows anything about Macy, Ziver."

"It's just—" She looked out the window again, her voice completely calm even as her face grew more and more distraught. "Interrogation is about trying to get inside someone, trying to get something from them they don't want to give-"

"So be gentle." It was all Gibbs could offer. He took her hands in apology. "You don't have to. Tony or I can take this one if you want."

She drew back at that. "No, you are right. It should be me."

"Ok, then." He sighed again, torn between wanting to hug her and knowing that he had to respect the strength she was summoning up.

Ziva reset the mood for them by turning and beginning to walk back toward the interrogation rooms. "I have my interview this afternoon," she said lightly. "Any advice?" She turned toward him with a smile pasted over her distraught visage.

He couldn't suppress a chuckle. "I got in 'cause I was born here. If it was something I had to interview for, what makes you think they'd want me?" It warranted a laugh from her at least, and it eased the tension inside him to hear it.

Gibbs followed her back in silence, watched Ziva conduct the interview. He heard enough pain in her voice that he was glad he could only see the back of her head. When she came out, she had Kaylin in tow, and didn't meet his eyes.

xoxox

"I think we need you here," she said later that afternoon.

Gibbs didn't miss the hint of delight in Ziva's voice on the phone. "What's happened?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he rose from his desk and headed toward the garage.

"Two of Kaylin's fellow officers decided to pay her attacker a visit."

"Her alleged attacker?" Gibbs asked wryly.

"His father and his father's lawyer would like to speak with you. They seem to feel they warrant your full attention," Ziva said lightly.

"You wouldn't be enjoying extra-legal vengeance would you, David?" Gibbs teased.

Ziva chuckled and hung up.

xoxox

She was waiting at the curb when he arrived fifteen minutes later, nibbling nervously on her lower lip.

"Things cooling off around here?" Gibbs tossed out as he slammed the car door.

"Could I borrow your car?" Ziva asked quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, then his eyes widened as Gibbs remembered. "Your interview!"

"It is just that it is twenty minutes from here and I do not wish to be late-"

Gibbs cut her off with a shake of her head. He glanced up at the house. "You think he did it?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I am fairly certain."

He nodded once. "Hop in. He can wait."

Ziva grinned and slid into the car as Gibbs started it up again. He glanced over at her as they took off back toward the beltway. "You know," he said admiringly after a few minutes, "this may be the bravest thing you've ever done."

She turned to him with wide eyes, caught off guard. "Brave?"

Gibbs smiled as he looked back to the road. "You're a bright woman, Ziva, but you've let other people tell you what to do and who to be your whole life. It's what the army does, what plenty of parents do. Yet in the space of a year, you've shed all of that and chosen for yourself what your life will be." He didn't miss her small smile at the compliment. Nor how it faded.

"I would not have survived if I had not chosen," she answered softly.

He glanced over at her again as he got off at their exit. "A lot of people still couldn't have done it, Ziver. Give yourself credit."

She looked back at him. "Now I just have to face an immigration interviewer," she said dryly.

Gibbs scoffed, then turned sharply to avoid missing the turn. "Don't worry, Ziver," he said quietly, gazing out the window at where they were going. "You'll always have a home here." He didn't have to look to see her smile back.


	89. 7x23 Patriot Down II

**Conversations**

Thank you all for your good wishes on the GRE! V 700, M 790 – not too bad, especially considering I barely studied!

This is the second chapter for Patriot Down and follows Gibbs' last scene with Abby, since we didn't really see anything from then until he was actually in Mexico, and somehow the team knew where he'd gone.

Whoever reviews first gets to be lucky number 800! I really don't tell you all often enough how much you make my day :)

* * *

His heart was hammering in agitation as Gibbs pounded at the elevator button, his eyes impatiently flicking down the hall toward the stairwell.

The doors finally opened and Ziva reared back as he stepped quickly inside; then she frowned at him as she took in his demeanor. "What's wrong?" she demanded.

Gibbs ground his teeth, waited until the elevator had engaged to stop it. "Bell was responsible for Macy's death."

Ziva's eyes widened in alarm, then softened in sympathy.

"Because of me," he finished unnecessarily.

"You do not know that-" she began.

"Don't be stupid, Ziva," Gibbs snapped. "You and I both know that he's after me. Whoever on the task force is working with him will get the forensics out of Abby and everything else—interviews, notes, whatever—out of Macy's files." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "And now they're going after Mike and Layla and Amira."

Ziva drew in a sharp breath. "What are we going to do?"

Gibbs pulled his hand away, shook his head roughly. "Not we. _I'm_ going to Mexico."

She shook her head just as emphatically. "Gibbs! If that have Macy's papers, they could arrest you, or-"

"I have to risk it," he cut her off. "Abby's sending them her findings anyway."

"Why?" Ziva demanded, outraged.

"I told her to."

She looked at him, scandalized. "Gibbs, why!"

Gibbs clenched his jaw, glanced away a moment. "It's my chance, Ziver."

"To die at the hands of drug dealers?" she asked sarcastically.

He grabbed her shoulders, startling Ziva into silence. "What would your father do? I keep asking myself that."

Her eyes dropped. Ziva took a quick breath. "He would cover up the evidence, have Abby killed and deny any knowledge."

Gibbs waited until she met his eyes to answer. "Then I plan to do the opposite in every regard."

Ziva looked up at him, swallowing hard. "Going down there will not get anyone justice, Gibbs. Your death will not make you a better man in Abby's eyes...or mine."

He sighed, suddenly weary. "If I knew how be one, Ziver, I might try. But the only kind of man I've ever known how to be is someone who protects the people I love and I can't leave Mike and his family in danger."

She nodded once. "I know." She clutched at Gibbs' shirt as he began to step away. "But let me come with you." As he tried to interrupt, she raised her voice. "I owe you my life, Gibbs! A half dozen times over. I can help."

He didn't answer, just watched her silently for a long minute. When he spoke his voice was soft. "How'd your interview go?"

"What?" She frowned in confusion. "Oh. Fine." A faint smile crossed her face.

Gibbs leaned forward an kissed her forehead. "Then you need to be here." This time he refused to let her cut in. "I'll let you know if you need anything." He hit the button to restart the elevator.

Ziva watched him without speaking as the elevator returned to the ground floor. He was right, she couldn't leave, and so she traced his profile with her eyes, memorizing the moment, because she knew better than anyone how ephemeral moments could be.

He glanced toward her one more time as he moved to exit the elevator and Ziva threw her arms around Gibbs' neck for one brief moment, holding him tightly. He hugged her hard, then pulled away and headed for the front door without turning back.


	90. 7x24 Rule 51 I

**Conversations**

So, Rule 51 also gets two chapters. This one begins when Ziva and Tony pick Gibbs up in Mexico and won't get all the way to the citizenship ceremony—but don't worry, you won't have to wait more than a day or two! Let me know what you think...

* * *

Ziva watched Gibbs out of the corner of her eye as they disembarked the plane. He'd remained stubbornly silent the whole flight home, whether because he was keeping what had happened from her or from Tony or both she wasn't sure. He looked exhausted despite the sleep he'd gotten, and she was flooded with yet another tide of concern as she thought of the forty-eight hours of his life that remained unaccounted for, and imagined all the things that might have passed.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Gibbs finally said as she and Tony turned toward the Customs station where they'd have to sign a small mountain of paperwork in order to bring the bodies into the country.

Ziva caught Tony's glance in her direction.

"Have Ziva take you," he said firmly.

Gibbs gave him a look.

"That knot on your head suggests you shouldn't be driving," Tony added, his voice soft and serious.

Their boss nodded once, and Ziva exchanged a worried look with Tony before she turned and followed Gibbs through the airport crowd.

She was a little surprised when he handed her the keys without resistance, surprised enough not to pressure him to talk in the car. But when they arrived at his house and she raised an eyebrow, waiting for instructions, Gibbs nodded toward the house. Inside he muttered something about cleaning up and headed upstairs. Ziva put on a pot of coffee and waited.

After twenty minutes Gibbs returned and drank his now-cool mug in three swallows.

"Gibbs?" Ziva asked lightly.

He stared down into the cup. "When you were with Mossad," he looked up in time to watch her stiffen, "Did you ever take hostages? Threaten people's families?"

Ziva didn't answer, processed the words and the tension in his face as he asked. "Well, I may have threatened to during interrogation, but I never kidnapped anyone," she finally said. When Gibbs didn't respond, she opened her mouth again, "Did-"

"No." He snapped out the syllable, but his eyes contradicted it. His eyes were a warning.

Ziva sighed in sympathy, her mind turning as she made the leaps—Franks and his family, probably taken—with some amount of proof or he wouldn't buy it—and even now there were threats or he'd have told her—they had to—

Gibbs shook his head, a response to her thoughts as surely as if she'd spoken them aloud.

She frowned at him. "Your nation may value individualism, but you are not alone, Gibbs."

"I know," he said lightly, turning to pour more coffee.

Ziva grabbed his wrist, stilling his hands and reclaiming his attention. "I do not think you do. You lost your family, and for that I am sorry, but you have one now. Me, Abby, McGee, Tony—even Vance, though in our family _he _is perhaps the red-headed step-child." She didn't miss Gibbs' brief smirk at her correct use of the phrase.

He answered her softly. "I know you're my family, Ziva. I would die for any one of you if I had to—there was a moment I nearly did in Mexico. And I'd _rather_ die for you than put you in danger."

"We're in danger every day," she protested.

"Doing a job you chose to do," he answered emphatically. "Not because I did something wrong twenty years ago."

Ziva's eyes widened at the admission. She answered slowly. "That is the first time I have heard you admit it was wrong."

Gibbs sat down at the kitchen table, suddenly seeming weary. "An eye for an eye has always been my kind of justice."

"It is in the Torah, the Hebrew scriptures," Ziva offered.

"Do you believe it?" He was watching her closely.

Ziva took a slow breath. "It was once my code as well. I believe it is a natural human instinct. But I do not know anyone made peaceful by war."

Gibbs nodded. "Me neither." He rubbed a hand across his face. "I don't know the way out of this yet, Ziva. And there's only so long you can take turns gouging out each others' eyes until everyone's blind."

She cocked her head, remembering Tony's comments. "I don't know exactly what your relationship is with Vance, but wouldn't he help you?"

He shrugged. "Not sure that'll go far enough to keep everyone safe."

Ziva ached at the fear in his eyes as he remembered how terrible loss could feel. She hardened her expression, redirecting him. "Then you know what to do. Warn them. Get them away if you can. Tell them you love them, just in case."

Gibbs met her eyes, his jaw clenching with resolve. He crossed into the living room to his phone and dialed.

Ziva rose and followed him, listened while he ordered security at NCIS to put an agent with Abby, and her own stomach clenched with fear at the danger her friends were in.

He hung up and dialed again, greeted the person on the other end perfunctorily. The answering voice was loud enough that Ziva smiled in recognition as she caught his faint words.

"No, I'm good, I'm good," Gibbs said. "Listen, is there anybody you could stay with for a few days?"

"_What are you into?_" Jackson Gibbs' voice rang out from the receiver.

Gibbs hesitated. "There are some people I've gotten mixed up with...you might be in some danger."

"_Well, are you? What are we going to do about it?_"

His son shook his head. "That's not why I'm calling, Dad. I just need to make sure you're somewhere safe."

Jackson's voice over the phone was not afraid but stern. "_Leroy, I'm your father. It may be your job to protect your people, but it's my job to protect you. That's what fathers do, it's the most fundamental thing about being a father. More than putting food on the table or clothes on their backs, you protect them._"

Gibbs paused, remembering a speech just like this one when Kelly was born, and looked over in time to notice the tears that had sprung up in Ziva's eyes at Jackson's words. He reached out to touch the side of her face and she shook her head, blinking her tears away. With a hand on the back of her neck, he pulled her against him, stroking her hair as she slid her arms around his waist.

He nodded to himself. "Okay Dad, let's figure out what to do."

"_You think they'll come here? I can be ready for them, Leroy, just tell me what to expect." _

Gibbs looked down at Ziva. "Hang on a sec, Dad." He held the phone against his free shoulder. "Ziva, I need you to leave."

"Gibbs!" she protested.

He cut her off. "You heard all that?"

She nodded.

"Then you know why I can't let you get involved in this."

Ziva looked up at him. A thousand orders she'd gotten from Eli David, but never one like this. "I'll see you at NCIS," she said, her tone more an order than a farewell.

Gibbs smiled faintly. "Take my car, I'll call a cab." He brushed a kiss across her forehead and pushed her toward the door before lifting the phone back to his ear.

"Okay, Dad. I'm here."


	91. 7x24 Rule 51 II

**Conversations**

This is the second chapter for Rule 51, in case you missed the first. I know this ends with a bit of a cliffhanger, but I won't take this story outside canon, so you'll have to wait til fall for more of this, too! More that continues the timeline, anyway. There are a few chapters I'm going to go back and make up for skipping. Hope you like!

* * *

"They'll be here, they're just late!" Abby hissed as the ceremony began.

Ziva turned and nodded, smiling politely, trying not to betray her emotions. She'd gotten a text message that said only _I'm so sorry_ a few minutes ago, from an unknown number. It had to be Tony; Gibbs didn't know how to text. She'd spent those few minutes being annoyed, but her irritation was rapidly fading now in the face of the remaining empty seat.

She hadn't missed the agent who'd followed Abby as far as the entrance to the auditorium before Vance dismissed him. Even knowing why he was there, his presence was unsettling. One more reminder that Gibbs' absence could be terribly serious. But there was nothing she could do until this was over.

So Ziva raised her hand, sparing one more glance toward the door, and took an oath she knew by heart, an affirmation of where her loyalties had been for so long.

xxxxx

A half-hour later Ziva restrained herself from barging in the door even though her heart was pounding with adrenaline. She moved slowly, took in every detail of the house as she entered, then was stopped short by the realization that nothing was wrong here.

"Gibbs?" she called, stepping up to the basement stairs and looking down into the dimness.

"Up here!" he shouted back.

Her head jerked toward the sound of his voice. That at least was unusual. She ascended the stairs cautiously, looked around for signs of invasion as she headed to Gibbs' room.

When she got there, Ziva stopped short, her fear turning abruptly to numbness as she took in the reality of the situation. She took a deep, shaky breath, and the numbness vanished in turn as a wave of disappointment swept over her. It was a familiar feeling, from a childhood of searching audiences for her father. She'd thought that today of all days, she was done feeling that way.

Gibbs met her eyes, rising from his seat on the bed as he took in her face. "I was going to come, Ziva," he said softly, "but then Allison came here. And she said a lot of what you've said before, about me not really adhering to the law. I didn't..." He sighed harshly. "It was just what you said to me, months ago. I'm like your father. You have this idea in your head about what America can be, and it's a good one...I didn't want to corrupt that."

Ziva squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. "I thought you must be hurt," she choked out. She looked at him, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. "You _were_ like him today."

He took a step toward her instinctively, aching at the betrayed look in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said seriously, the words heartfelt.

She looked at him, mouth agape.

Gibbs smiled gently. "Made a new rule." He reached toward the bed and held up the slip of paper. "Rule 51. Sometimes you're wrong."

"Well, you were wrong about this," Ziva said harshly. "Today."

He took a deep breath, watching her, but didn't answer.

"America is an idea, Gibbs," Ziva finally said. "I can hold it to the highest standards. But expecting perfection of people will only get you disappointed. When you brought me back here ten months ago, and offered me forgiveness, gentleness, love—I have been angry with you since, it is true, but the reward for surviving the hard time is celebrating together-" she broke off, blinking back tears. "You are not a perfect father, no one is. But you should have come because I wanted you there. It was not-" Ziva swallowed hard to steady her voice. "It was not the same without you."

"I'm sorry," Gibbs said again, meaning it fully this time.

Ziva nodded once at his apology.

"Sometimes I'm wrong," he offered. "Welcome to America."

She let out a single sob that melted into a laugh. "This is why I needed you, Gibbs. You are the only one who can say that while knowing everything I have done. It has to be you."

He smiled. "I'm not wrong about you, Ziva David. So make me a promise."

"Of?" Ziva raised her eyebrows.

"To renounce other fidelities, defend _our_ country, pledge allegiance...that sort of thing."

"You missed it," she said, a smile belying the snark in her tone. "But I already have."

Gibbs opened his mouth to reply when his cell phone rang. He reached for it, flipped it open at once when he saw the number. "Dad?"

Ziva eyes settled on him intently.

He listened seriously. "I'll be right there." He hung up and turned to Ziva. "You still willing to bear arms?"

She nodded at once. "Of course."

"Good." He kissed her on the cheek as he led the way quickly out of the room. "We don't have much time."


	92. 7x21 Obsession

**Conversations**

Going back a few episodes, this chapter follows Obsession, and offers some resolution to the story mentioned but not told at the end of chapter 86. Enjoy!

* * *

Gibbs heard the front door slam somewhere above him and then, a minute later, open again. He glanced around the basement, wondering what Tony had forgotten, only to be pleasantly surprised to find Ziva's face peering at him from the top of the steps.

"Ziver," he said with a nod.

She smiled faintly in greeting. "Tony was here?" she asked without preamble.

He looked at her silently. She knew the answer.

"Why?" she pressed, her tone serious.

Gibbs sighed. "Dana Hutton died."

Ziva winced in sympathy for a moment. "He should not have to lose so many people."

"It's not your job to protect him." Gibbs turned back to his work. He heard her cross the room to lean against his workbench.

"That is not why I came here, Gibbs."

He turned to her, raised his eyebrows.

"You never told us how you learned about Dana Hutton's boyfriend."

"And you think you know?" He turned to face her.

Ziva hesitated. "Mary A. Hart appeared in her cell phone logs a number of times."

Gibbs reached over and poured himself an inch of bourbon, refilled Tony's jar for Ziva. "She came here, told me about it."

"What happened to never involve lawyers?" Ziva asked heatedly. "Even if she weren't—no one gives information away for nothing, Gibbs." She watched him intently.

He took a swig of his drink. "Yeah, well. She thinks she knows what she's getting from me."

Ziva pursed her lips, glanced away. "She must be getting something."

Gibbs' eyes twinkled. "Ziva, you of all people should know I can lie when I have to." He was rewarded by a genuine laugh as Ziva remembered their polygraph training session.

It had been the first time they'd laughed together since Joanne had disturbed their equilibrium. By the end of the evening, he'd gotten Ziva to spill her most outrageous lie detector story, about how her father had walked in on Ari training her to lie to a polygraph. He'd thought the test was a real one, practice for entering Mossad, and had snatched up the list of questions Ari had prepared in jest—questions Ziva dared not answer truthfully in front of her father.

"Have you ever slept with Saul Stein?" Gibbs asked now, repeating the dialogue from her story, deepening his voice to match her father's.

Ziva put on her most innocent face. "Certainly not, sir."

"Ever stayed out past curfew?" He grinned at her.

She laughed. "Never, sir." As the laugh faded, Ziva found herself still smiling. As terrifying as it had been having her father yell questions at her while she had to stay calm or face the consequences of the truth, it had been delightful to share it with Gibbs. But the worry that had provoked her visit still lingered. "She is not on our side, Gibbs," she said quietly, emphatically.

He nodded as he met his eyes. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."


	93. 7xx November 20, 2009

**Conversations**

Today is the birthday of Conversations! Seriously, it's actually been a year since I started writing these. Haven't done too many in the last few months, but I thought I'd pull one out for the anniversary. More should start up with the new season.

We know Ziva is a Scorpio from a while back. I've picked a date at random. I should say that I'm ignoring the screen caps I saw of her application to NCIS that said she's 27, because I still don't buy it. This chapter follows the series of early season 7 chapters, namely: Truth and Consequences, Naked, Reunion, Loss of Language, Reminder, Endgame, Power Down. It also goes back to the very first chapter of Conversations.

Oh, and if you missed it, I wrote a one-shot a while ago called "Telling the Truth" to expand Ziva's story about the lie detector and Ari. I like it, you might too!

* * *

Gibbs couldn't help smiling to himself at the sudden nervousness he felt. It had been a long time since he'd turned up at a woman's door, unannounced and possibly unwelcome. He straightened his face and knocked at the door.

He hadn't been aware of noise inside, but he felt the sudden stillness. He held his breath and heard the sound of a gun's safety being clicked off.

"Ziver," he said softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. He heard her shaky laugh inside, then the door opened.

"Gibbs," Ziva greeted him. "Is there a case?"

He frowned at her, perplexed. "Do I usually come get you for cases?"

She shrugged, turning aside to permit him entry. "I am trying to stay busy."

Gibbs nodded, but didn't come in. After a minute, Ziva turned and cocked her head in confusion. "What is it?"

He smiled gently. "Go. Change into something nice. We're going out."

Ziva's face shut down at once. "No."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "You have a lot to celebrate."

Ziva's hands clenched into fists. "And right now I do not want to think about any of it."

He nodded once in understanding, then stepped toward her, sliding an arm around Ziva's shoulders and guiding her toward the bedroom. "Think of it this way: I always take Abby out. It's tradition. You're just becoming part of a tradition. Nothing special about _you_." Out of the corner of his eye Gibbs caught Ziva's bemused smile, but she let him push her gently into her room.

While Ziva changed, Gibbs looked around. Her new apartment seemed plainer than her old one, and it took a moment for him to reason why: all the things Ziva had brought from Israel—the thick, soft rugs and brilliant art—had made the old place seem luxurious. Here the walls were bare even of photographs, and the furniture was serviceable but impersonal. Gibbs sighed. Her losses ran so deep.

When she came out a few minutes later, Ziva was wearing clean slacks and a long-sleeved top: things she might have worn to work. Gibbs noted, not for the first time, that she tried to keep her skin—and scars—from ever showing.

"Here we go." He led her out the door.

They drove in silence, but when Ziva saw where they were going, she laughed.

"I thought a restaurant might be too much," Gibbs explained gruffly. "Did pick up dinner, though."

Ziva turned to him, smiling gratefully. "This is just right."

Inside Gibbs' house, they down sat at the living room table, eating the take-out he'd gotten from her favorite Italian place.

"I remember when I turned thirty," Gibbs said after a while, ignoring Ziva's glare. "It was '90, and Kelly was six. We moved here that year. I got made a Gunnery Sergeant. Good year." He turned, waiting for Ziva to complain about him stating her age the way Abby usually did, but found Ziva staring at her plate.

She felt the weight of his eyes. "I did not expect to make it to thirty," she said softly. "Even before this summer—I did not question it so much while I was working for NCIS, but like I told you when I first met, Mossad agents have a tendency not to live into old age."

"Well, we should have had more of a party," Gibbs quipped.

Ziva smiled quickly. "This is enough of a party."

"I'm not gonna sing," he warned.

She rewarded him with a laugh. "I am simply grateful you did not tell Abby. There would have been too much singing."

He grinned. "Got a present, though." He pushed himself up off the couch and left the room.

Ziva's eyes narrowed as Gibbs reentered.

"Thought you should have this," he said gruffly. "To decorate your place. Or whatever."

Slowly Ziva took the sketchpad Gibbs was extending. She stroked her fingers gently over the cover, remembering the first time she held it, four long years ago, then reverently flipped it open. When she'd first found this, wedged into a drawer in Kate Todd's desk, she had rifled through the sketches, noting the accuracy of the lines. Now Ziva saw in them something different: her people, their most definitive expressions captured. So many days, in the darkness of her cell, she had summoned up these people: their faces, their gestures. It was shocking how close her memories had brought her to these same elemental images of Tony, Abby, McGee, Ducky, Gibbs. For a moment Ziva felt incredibly close to Kate. Then she looked up at Gibbs. "I do not need pictures to remember you all by," she said calmly. "But I thank you for this."

He nodded once, then sat beside her and raised his glass of bourbon. "To many more birthdays."

Ziva smiled and shook her head in awe. "For all of us," she added.

They drank.


	94. 7x24 8x01 Homecoming

**Chapter 94: Home-coming**

This chapter comes immediately after chapter 91 (Rule 51), which you should probably reread if you haven't seen it all summer. Right now we're filling in the gaps between Rule 51 and Spider and the Fly. I didn't love the premiere, but it reset a lot of things I'm glad they didn't drag out. And they left me lots to fill in! You might even get another new chapter tomorrow!

* * *

Ziva turned to confirm what she could see in the rear-view mirror: a patrol car had swung into the lane behind them. The officer driving saluted her when he caught her glance. Ziva nodded acknowledgment, then turned back around. "We have an escort," she murmured to Gibbs.

He glanced in the mirror but didn't slow down.

"It'll be alright, Leroy," Jackson Gibbs offered from the backseat.

His son didn't answer.

Ziva sighed softly, then resumed her surveillance of the surrounding cars. Gibbs had barely spoken since they'd reached Stillwater to find they'd just missed Paloma and her thugs. He'd called NCIS to bark out orders to Vance: McGee and DiNozzo should drive up to process the scene; a team would have to secure his house. Vance must have agreed. It was a short conversation.

They'd been in town less than twenty minutes before they were on the road again, driving at breakneck speed away from the destruction Paloma Reynosa had rained down on the sleepy little town store. Gibbs hadn't spoken more than three words the entire time, and then only to prompt Jackson to retell what had happened or to direct Ziva's attention to cars that lingered too long in their lane.

"So how are you, Ziva?" Jackson ventured, pointedly ignoring his son's mood.

She twisted in her seat, smiling faintly. "Well, I'm fine." She blinked, remembering. "Actually, I became a US citizen this morning."

"Ziva!" Jackson beamed at her. "That's wonderful!" Then he grew crestfallen. "Your nice suit—you got all dirty back at the store."

She shook her head with a shrug. "You would be shocked the things dry cleaners have gotten out of my clothes over the years."

Gibbs snorted softly.

Ziva glanced at him just in time to catch the quirk of his face that told her he was imagining what she meant. She sighed, finally beginning to relax. It would be alright. They were almost home.

xxx

Many hours later Ziva jerked awake at the sound of a creaking floorboard and found herself in darkness. She squinted as her eyes adjusted.

"Just me," Gibbs muttered, shifting in the chair across from her.

She stretched and sat up, blinking suddenly as he turned on a light. "Anything?" she murmured.

He shook his head. "Only the agents. New shift started a couple hours ago."

Ziva nodded. No matter how many agents Vance sent, there had been no question that she and Gibbs would trade watches tonight; after what had happened in Stillwater, neither of them was ready to trust anyone outside the family. She glanced out the window at a shadow, her hand darting to the weapon beside her pillow on the couch. When she caught sight of the shadow's NCIS vest, Ziva eased her grip, but she still cradled the gun in her lap, rubbing a finger absently along its barrel.

After a moment she looked back up at Gibbs and caught a strange look in his eyes. "What?" she asked bluntly.

Gibbs looked away, his hand reaching out unconsciously for a moment until he flinched, remembering that he knew better than to pour himself a bourbon on a night when any delay in reflexes could spell disaster. "I was just thinking," he said softly. "It's been a year."

Ziva frowned, trying to follow his thoughts, then gasped as she realized what he meant. A year. One year since he left her behind in Israel with Eli David.

He met her eyes fiercely. "I was wrong then, too," he said adamantly.

"You were not responsible for what happened," she answered, her face imploring him to believe her.

Gibbs shrugged.

Ziva tried another tack. "I'm glad you didn't leave me behind today. I'm glad you let me come to Stillwater."

His eyes narrowed, but Gibbs nodded. They sat silently for a minute. Then Gibbs spoke again. "There's something-" He stopped, frowned as he tried to find the words. "Aw, hell, Ziver."

She cocked her head, uncertain when he was trying to say.

"Sometimes you have to say things," Gibbs said gruffly.

Ziva's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you want me to say?"

"Not you." Gibbs shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. The lamplight beside him threw shadows across his face. "There's something I wanted to tell you. When I was sitting here watching you sleep."

Ziva waited, letting him take his time.

"You told me, when you got back, that you think of me as a father."

Surprise crossed her face again. "You are," she said impulsively.

Gibbs held up a hand so she'd let him finish. He looked intently into Ziva's eyes. "I wanted you to know—I think of you as a daughter," he said seriously.

Her nostrils flared at the sudden threat of tears as Ziva was caught off-guard by sudden emotion. She felt...loved. She tried not to think that she hadn't felt this way since her mother died. She smiled through it. "Does that make Abby like my sister?"

Gibbs snorted but didn't play into the joke. "What my dad said about family, about being a father—back in Israel, I never should have let you stay. Not knowing what you might face."

Ziva shook her head firmly. "I told you. You didn't know. And who knows, if I had defied him and returned with you, we might all be in even more danger." She shrugged helplessly. "We are all alive now. That has to be enough for tonight."

He studied her for a moment longer. Her eyes pleaded with him to agree. At last he nodded agreement, slid across the room to sit beside her on the couch. His body twisted sideways so he could still track the agents out the window. "It is," Gibbs said simply, fondly.

She smiled and leaned toward him, let him hug her hard against him. After a moment Gibbs released her, but Ziva shifted so she could rest against him as they stared out into the night, guarding their patriarch.


	95. 7x24 8x01 Fathers and Sons

**Chapter 95: Fathers and Sons**

Sorry, yesterday was too ambitious a promise, but this was a long chapter! I wasn't sure exactly where it was going until I was done writing it, but I doubt Jackson and Gibbs would make it through a summer without some of this coming up...

* * *

Ziva waved to Agent Bronson, Gibbs' 5pm to midnight patrol, then drew her hand back self-consciously. She glanced around, even though she knew Gibbs and McGee were still driving back from West Virginia with their latest culprit.

She'd watched in shock that morning as Gibbs screamed in the face of their initial suspect, the murdered marine's father. He'd shouted at the man for being nosy and controlling until the man started crying and she and Tony were left standing in Observation in stunned silence.

When Gibbs guiltily slammed out of the room, Ziva had had to chase him down. She slipped into the elevator beside him and waited out his silence.

"There's a reason I didn't move back there!" Gibbs finally snarled, and strode angrily out the door into the bullpen.

Ziva didn't have any real plan at the moment, except to try to help. Ever since Tony's return and his report of Mike Franks' likely death, Gibbs had been predictably taciturn. It didn't help that Paloma Reynosa was still at large. Gibbs had been snapping at everyone, throwing cups of coffee across the bullpen, interrogating more heavy-handedly than usual. And no one blamed him.

Now Ziva reached for the front door handle out of habit, then hesitated and knocked.

"Ziva!" Jackson greeted her warmly as he swung the door open. Then his face fell. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, well, yes," she said. "I just...thought maybe we could talk."

"Of course!" Jackson led the way inside. "Let me get you a cup of coffee."

Ziva grinned as she followed him into the kitchen. "Family favorite?"

Jackson gave her an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe he drinks it when I'm asleep; Leroy can't seem to be in the house while I'm up." He looked faintly annoyed as he loaded grounds into the machine.

Ziva sat down at the kitchen table and waited for him to go on.

Jackson eased into a chair across from her. "We didn't talk for sixteen years, you know? Thought we'd have more catching up to do." His voice was wistful. "But I know he's worried about me. Wouldn't keep me here otherwise."

Ziva rested her arms on the table and leaned forward, trying to frame her words carefully. "He is not his usual self at work, either. But he was like this when Jenny died, too. I believe it is his grief, and not your presence, that is changing Gibbs' behavior."

Jackson frowned. "Who's Jenny?"

Her jaw dropped and Ziva blinked. Where to start? "She was our director for a while," Ziva began slowly. "Before that, years before that, she and Gibbs were lovers. When he was working in Europe. But don't—that is not common knowledge."

He shrugged. "At least I'm not the only one who didn't know."

Ziva tried to smile comfortingly. "He does not let many people get close to him."

"So who's he grieving now?"

She stiffened again. "We believe that some of Paloma's men got to Mike Franks in Mexico."

Jackson looked at her with concern. "Is that an agent?"

Ziva winced. "He used to be." She took a deep breath, thinking of how to explain Mike Franks' relationship with Gibbs. Finally she began at the beginning. "Franks was the agent who investigated Kelly and Shannon's death."

Now Jackson reacted strongly, his eyes flaring in agitation.

"And when he found out who had killed them-" Ziva stopped. If Gibbs had never told his father about the murders he'd committed, about why he felt so responsible for the Reynosa threat now, it was hardly her place. "He helped make sure justice was served," she finished opaquely. "And then he helped Gibbs get started at NCIS. He retired several years ago, but in the time I have been here I have seen Franks go to great lengths to protect Gibbs." She suddenly saw Jenny's body in her mind's eye and felt sick. "He went down to see Franks when he nearly retired a few years ago. And Franks' granddaughter is Gibbs' goddaughter."

Jackson nodded thoughtfully, then rose to pour their coffee. As he sat down again he said quietly, "Sounds like Leroy thought of him as a father."

Ziva cocked her head. "I think—I think more as a mentor." She frowned, studied her mug a moment before glancing up again. "I know what it is to give up on your family and choose another," she said slowly. "Gibbs may have been distant from you, but he never hated you. His relationship with Mike was something different."

"And Paloma Reynosa already got to him." Jackson's voice was distressed.

Ziva pursed her lips. "We believe so. If he is alive, he is hiding. She already came after his family once to get to Gibbs."

"So you came over here to tell me to cut Leroy some slack."

"Some what?" Ziva shook her head in confusion.

Jackson smiled. "To lighten up on—to leave him alone. Right?"

"Ah." Ziva nodded. "Yes, mostly. I am not sure it is good for him to keep everything inside the way he does, but there is nothing Gibbs resents more than someone trying to get into his head."

"I just want him to talk to me." Jackson sounded forlorn. "When he was a boy he'd tell me everything. About who ate a crayon on the school bus and what teacher was his favorite."

Ziva laughed at the image of her boss as a child. "I cannot imagine," she spluttered.

He grinned at her.

For the next three hours, Ziva listened to stories about Leroy's little league team and his first car, until finally Jackson went to bed. She didn't mind the quiet after all the talk, and sympathized suddenly with her boss. She was halfway through a glass of bourbon on the basement steps when Gibbs joined her.

"Did you need something, Ziver?" he asked shortly.

Ziva stood to let him pass as he headed to the pile of wood he was preparing for his next project.

"I am sorry about Mike," she answered softly.

He turned quickly toward her, his expression angry. "We don't know he's dead."

She shrugged. "At the very least he is injured. And whether you are grieving or worried, Tony and McGee and I—we understand. We do. It would kill us if something happened to you. But your father—I had to explain to him who Mike _is_."

Gibbs' shoulders slumped. "I don't want to talk about him."

"The way you didn't talk about Shannon and Kelly for all those years?"

He glared at her. "That was different."

"Why?" She was starting to be exasperated.

"Because-" He cut himself off, turned back toward the wood. "There was no hope."

Ziva frowned in confusion. "So you are not grieving?"

Gibbs forced out his answer. "I grieved for you, gave up when I shouldn't have. I don't think I'll be able to believe anyone's ever dead until I see proof."

She was stunned into silence.

"You of all people know what they could be doing to Mike if he's alive right now. But I have to hope he's alive." Gibbs turned back to her. "And I can't try out to lay out to my father what Mike has done for me while knowing that." He looked more defeated than angry now.

Ziva nodded gently. "Then tell him something else. About Diane or Stephanie or me and the team. He just wants to know you." She paused, then went for his weak spot. "Imagine if Kelly ever shut you out."

Now he was glaring again. "She wouldn't have."

"It sounds like you were a sweet kid, too," Ziva said innocently.

Gibbs stared at her until an impish smile tickled Ziva's lips. "What did he tell you?"

She grinned widely, teasing, then sighed. "What he was trying to say was, he wants to know you again."

Gibbs sighed, too. "Yeah. Alright."

Ziva nodded once. "Good." She turned to leave, then hung for a moment over the stair railing. "You are lucky, you know. That he is your father."

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, weighing her meaning. "Yeah," he finally said. "I do."


	96. 8x01 Spider and the Fly

Chapter 96: The Spider and the Fly 8x01

This chapter is for those of you who were also bothered by the fact that Alejandro Reynosa was set up to kill his sister. And of all of them, I can't imagine for a second that Ziva would have actually helped make that plan.

* * *

"We've got a car." Mike Franks voice came through the radio in a burst of static.

Ziva sat up alertly, her eyes seeking out the dull gleam of Tony's vehicle on the other side of the safe house. "Ready," she murmured. Tony's echo came a moment later.

As they'd anticipated, Alejandro pulled up in front of the house and got out, armed. Ziva braced herself to flip on the car lights and arrest him.

"Wait!" Gibbs barked over the radio.

Ziva paused. She'd set up the microphones inside herself. If Alejandro was relieved to find his sister alive, there was a chance they'd speak freely. Suddenly Ziva felt a bolt of tension shoot through her. She had to lean closer, squinting, to realize what had triggered it. Alejandro was cocking his gun. Ziva flipped her radio to a private channel. "Gibbs!" she protested. "He's going to-"

And then there was a burst of rapid gun fire.

"Go get him," Gibbs said softly when it was over.

Her breathing was too quick. Ziva pressed down on the gas, sending the car flying forward, then stopped abruptly and flew out, tackling Alejandro with Tony.

"I did this for my sister! To finish what she started," Alejandro protested defiantly.

Then Gibbs stepped up, his expression impassive, his voice coolly logical. The doll he threw down, a final taunt, chilled Ziva again.

"Who was in there?" Alejandro began to beg, fear and realization flooding his eyes. Ziva jerked him by his elbow toward the house.

Ziva couldn't help the wave of relief she felt when she saw Paloma's eyes flutter toward her brother. Then she felt Alejandro start to tremble and had to leave. "I'll call an ambulance," she murmured to Gibbs as she strode quickly out into the cool night air.

Tony was just outside the door.

"An ambulance-" Ziva started to say, but he gestured to the phone already at his ear. She glanced back inside, at Alejandro crouching over his fallen sister, then headed away, walking toward the treeline without looking back.

Ziva was ten yards into the forest before she stopped, far enough that the safe house was still a light in the distance, but too far for any of the men she'd come with to see her. She was so angry she couldn't breathe deeply, just in frantic little puffs of air that eventually merged into a sob as she dropped to her knees on the mossy ground.

She crouched there, shoulders heaving although her cheeks were dry, for a long while. The sirens came and left and slowly the lights from the cars went out in the distance.

"Ziver?" came a shout at last.

"Here," she said, just loudly enough that she knew her voice would carry to him.

Footsteps behind her alerted Ziva to Gibbs presence. He stood quietly over her.

"You knew he'd do that!" she finally burst out. "You made him kill her."

Gibbs took a moment before answering. "You can only know what someone will probably do. You can't make them do it." His tone was as cool and imperturbable as it had been with Alejandro and for some reason that made Ziva furious.

"Of course you can!" she snapped, rising to her feet. "You set me up to kill Ari just like this."

Gibbs' mouth fell open as he realized what had set her off. "I didn't know he was your brother," he said, still reasonable but less patronizing.

"You knew he was my friend," she spat.

In the moonlight, Gibbs' face was suddenly conflicted and Ziva shook her head, staring off into the distance. "You can't know what that's like, that feeling. Knowing you've killed someone dear to you." She met his eyes. "We would all have done anything for our families, Gibbs. You, me. Even Alejandro. Maybe especially him."

Gibbs' eyes explored her face for a moment. Ziva left her expression open, titled her chin up into the moonlight, let him see how broken she still was in that small place inside.

"Then it is my fault," Gibbs said bleakly.

Ziva looked at him in shock as she heard his voice cracking.

"If I hadn't killed his father—he wouldn't have just killed his sister, you're right about that."

They stood in silence for a moment, Ziva at a loss for words.

"I changed all your lives."

She tilted her head, the movement invisible in the darkness. "If I had not been forced to kill Ari...I would not be _here_, that is certain."

He took a deep breath. "I wish I'd found another way."

She squinted, trying to see his eyes. "Do you?"

Gibbs sighed heavily. "This, tonight—maybe it had to end this way. Back and forth between our families until they're finally all dead or behind bars. But back there in the desert..." He titled his head back, searching through the trees for the stars, as the real meaning of the words he'd written down months ago hit him like a ton of bricks. "I was wrong when I killed their father. Impulsive and young and grieving, but...wrong." The words felt strange leaving his lips, and they left behind the bitterness of knowing he was responsible for not just the evening but for two whole lives warping and falling apart.

Ziva settled her arms around his waist in the darkness, her cheek pressed against his ragged heartbeat as Gibbs struggled to accept what he had rationalized away for so long.

"Do you still believe people can change?" Gibbs asked softly, a hint of roughness still in his voice.

"Yes," Ziva answered quietly. "I do."


End file.
